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THE 

PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL 

WORKS 

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PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL 



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LORD BACON, 



INCLimXG HIS 



DIGNITY AND ADVANCEMENT OF LEABNING, 

IX XIXK BOOKS : 



His 



NOVUM ORGANUM; 

EPTS FOB THE [NTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 



BY 

.JOSEPH DEVEY, M.A. 



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LONDON: 
HENRY G. BOHN, YOEK STEEET. COYENT GARDEN. 

185S. 



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By transfer 

JAN 20 J91I 



PREFACE 



Lord Bacon can only be said to have earned the three 
first parts of his Instauratio Magna to any degree of perfec- 
tion. Of these the Sylva Sylvarum is but a dry catalogue 
of natural phenomena, the collection of which, however 
necessary it might be, Bacon viewed as a sort of mechanical 
labour, and would never have stooped to the task, had not 
the field been abandoned by the generality of philosophers, 
as unworthy of them. The two other portions of the 
Instauratio Magna, which this volume contains, unfold the 
design of his philosophy, and exhibit all the peculiarities of 
his extraordinary mind, enshrined in the finest passages of 
his writings. 

Of the Be Augmentis, though one of the greatest books 
of modern times, only three translations have appeared, 
and each of these strikingly imperfect. That of Wats, 
issued while Bacon was living, is singularly disfigured with 
solecisms, and called forth the just censures of Bacon and his 
friends. The version of Eustace Cary is no less unfor- 
tunate, owing to its poverty of diction, and antiquated 
phraseology. Under the public sense of these failures, ano- 
ther translation was produced about sixty years ago by 
Dr. Shaw, which might have merited approbation, had not 
the learned physician been impressed with the idea that he 
could improve Bacon by relieving his work of some of its 
choicest passages, and entirely altering the arrangement. 
In the present version, our task has been principally to 
rectify Shaw's mistakes, by restoring the author's own 



PREFACE. 

arrangement, and supplying the omitted portions. Such 
of Shaw's notes as were deemed of value have been re- 
tained, and others added where the text seemed to re- 
quire illustration. Due care also has been taken to point 
out the sources whence Bacon drew his extraordinary stores 
of learning, by furnishing authorities for the quotations and 
allusions in the text, so that the reader may view at a glance 
the principal authors whom Bacon loved to consult, and 
whose agency contributed to the formation of his colossi 
powers. 

The version of the Novum Orgcmum contained in this 
volume is that by Wood, which is the best extant. The 
present edition of this immortal work has been enriched with 
an ample commentary, in which the remarks of the two 
Playfairs, Sir John Herschel, and the German and French 
editors, have been diligently consulted, that nothing may 
be wanting to render it as perfect as possible. 

J. D. 



CONTENTS. 



THE GREAT INSTAURATION 

Author's Announcement, Preface, and Account of the 
Work ... . . Pages 1-20 

I. THE DIGNITY AND ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING, 

in Nine Books. 

\* The Contents are given in full at pages 21-26. 

II, NOVUM ORGANUM. 

Preface ., „ _. 380 

Book I. — On the Interpretation op Nature and the 
Empire of Man . . . 383 

Book II.— On the Interpretation op Nature or the 
Reign of Man _ ^. ^ ^ ... ..448 



FRANCIS OF VERULAM'S 

GREAT INSTAURATION. 

Announcement of the Author. 

FRANCIS OF VERULAM THOUGHT THUS, AND SUCH IS THE METHOD 
WHICH HE DETERMINED WITHIN HIMSELF, AND WHICH HE THOUGHT 
IT CONCERNED THE LIVING AND POSTERITY TO KNOW. 

jBeing convinced, by a careful observation, that the human 
understanding perplexes itself, or makes not a sober and 
advantageous use of the real helps within its reach, whence 
manifold ignorance and inconveniences arise^ he was deter- 
mined to employ his utmost endeavours towards restoring 
or cultivating a just and legitimate familiarity betwixt the 
mind and things. 

But as the mind, hastily and without choice, imbibes and 
treasures up the first notices of things, from whence all the 
rest proceed, errors must for ever prevail, and remain uncor- 
rected, either by the natural powers of the understanding 
or the assistance of logic ; for the original notions being 
vitiated, confused, and inconsiderately taken from things, 
and the secondary ones formed no less rashly, human know r - 
ledge itself, the thing employed in all our researches, is not 
well put together nor justly formed, but resembles a magni- 
ficent structure that has no foundation; 

And whilst men agree to admire and magnify the false 
powers of the mind, and neglect or destroy those that might 
be rendered true, there is no other course left but with 
better assistance to begin the work anew, and raise or re- 
build the sciences, arts, and all human knowledge from a 
firm and solid basis. 

This may at first seem an infinite scheme, unequal to 
human abilities, yet it will be found more sound and judi- 
2 B 



2 THE GKEAT INSTAUKATIOST. 

cious than the course hitherto pursued, as tending to some 
issue ; whereas all hitherto done with regard to the sciences 
is vertiginous, or in the way of perpetual rotation. 

'Nor is he ignorant that he stands alone in an experiment 
almost too bold and astonishing to obtain credit, yet he 
thought it not right to desert either the cause or himself, 
but to boldly enter on the way and explore the only path 
which is pervious to the human mind. For it is wiser t© 
engage in an undertaking that admits of some termination, 
than to involve oneself in perpetual exertion and anxiety 
about what is interminable. The ways of contemplation, 
indeed, nearly correspond to two roads in nature, one of 
which, steep and rugged at the commencement, terminates 
in a plain ; the other, at first view smooth and easy, leads 
only to huge rocks and precipices. Uncertain, however, 
whether these reflections would occur to another, and ob- 
serving that he had never met any person disposed to apply 
his mind to similar thoughts, he determined to publish what- 
soever he found time to perfect. ISTor is this the haste of 
ambitioa, but anxiety, that if he should die there might 
remain behind him some outline and determination of the 
matter his mind had embraced, as well as some mark of his 
sincere and earnest affection to promote the happiness of 
mankind. 



AUTHOR'S PREFACE. 

Of the state of learning — That it is neither prosperous nor greatly 
advanced, and that a way must be opened to the human understand- 
ing entirely distinct from that known to our predecessors, and 
different aids procured, that the mind may exercise her power over 
the nature of things. 

It appears to me that men know neither their acquire- 
ments nor their powers, but fancy their possessions greater 
and their faculties less than they are ; whence, either valuing 
the received arts above measure, they look out no farther ; 
or else despising themselves too much, they exercise their 
talents upon lighter matters, without attempting the capital 



PREFACE. 3 

tilings of all. And hence the sciences seem to have their 
Hercules' Pillars, which bound the desires and hopes of 
mankind. 

But as a fake imagination of plenty is among the 
principal causes of want, and as too great a confidence in. 
things present leads to a neglect of the future, it is 
necessary we should here admonish mankind that they do 
not too highly value or extol either the number or useful- 
ness of the things hitherto discovered ; for, by closely in- 
specting the multiplicity of books upon arts and sciences, we 
find them to contain numberless repetitions of the same 
tilings in point of invention, but differing indeed as to the 
manner of treatment ; so that the real discoveries, though at 
the first view they may appear numerous, prove upon exa- 
mination but few. And as to the point of usefulness, the 
philosophy we principally received from the Greeks must be 
acknowledged puerile, or rather talkative than generative — 
as being fruitful in controversies, but barren of effects. 

The fable of Scylla seems a civil representation of the 
present condition of knowledge ; for she exhibited the coun- 
tenance and expression of a virgin, whilst barking monsters 
encircled her womb. Even thus the sciences have their 
specious and plausible generalities; but when we descend to 
particulars, which, like the organs of generation, should pro- 
duce fruits and effects, then spring up loud altercations 
and controversies, which terminate in barren sterility. 
And had this not been a lifeless kind of philosophy, it 
were scarce possible it should have made so little progress 
in so many ages, insomuch, that not only positions now fre- 
quently remain positions still, but questions remain ques- 
tions, rather riveted and cherished than determined by 
disputes ; philosophy thus coming down to us in the persons 
of master and scholar, instead of inventor and improver. 
In the mechanic arts the case is otherwise — these com- 
monly advancing towards perfection in a course of daily 
improvement, from a rough unpolished state, sometimes 
prejudicial to the first inventors, whilst philosophy and the 
intellectual sciences are, like statues, celebrated and adored, 
but never advanced ; nay, they sometimes appear most per- 
fect in the original author, and afterwards degenerate. For 
since men have gone over in crowds to the opinion of their 

b2 



4 THE GREAT INSTAURATIOST. 

leader, like those silent senators of Rome, a they add nothing 
to the extent of learning themselves, but perform the servile 
duty of waiting upon particular authors, and repeating their 
doctrines. 

It is a fatal mistake to suppose that the sciences have 
gradually arrived at a state of perfection, and then been 
recorded by some one writer or other ; and that as nothing 
better can afterwards be invented, men need but cultivate 
and set off what is thus discovered and completed; whereas, 
in reality, this registering of the sciences proceeds only from 
the assurance of a few and the sloth and ignorance of many. 
For after the sciences might thus perhaps in several parts 
be carefully cultivated ; a man of an enterprising genius 
rising up, who, by the conciseness of his method, renders 
himself acceptable and famous, he in appearance erects an 
art, but in reality corrupts the labours of his predecessors. 
This, however, is usually well received by posterity, as 
readily gratifying their curiosity, and indulging their indo- 
lence. But he that rests upon established consent as the 
judgment approved by time, trusts to a very fallacious and 
weak foundation ; for we have but an imperfect knowledge 
of the discoveries in arts and sciences, made public in diffe- 
rent ages and countries, and still less of what has been done 
by particular persons, and transacted in private ; so that 
neither the births nor miscarriages of time are to be found 
in our records. 

Nor is consent, or the continuance thereof, a thing of any 
account ; for however governments may vary, there is but 
one state of the sciences, and that will for ever be democratical 
or popular. But the doctrines in greatest vogue among the 
people, are either the contentious and quarrelsome, or the 
showy and empty ; that is, such as may either entrap the 
assent, or lull the mind to rest : whence, of course, the 
greatest geniuses in all ages have suffered violence ; whilst 
out of regard to their own character, they submitted to the 
judgment of the times, and the populace. And thus when 
any more sublime speculations happened to appear, they were 
commonly tossed and extinguished by the breath of popular 
opinion. Hence time, like a river, has brought down to us 

* Pedarii senatores. 



PEEFACE. 5 

what is liglit and tumid, but sunk what was ponderous and 
solid. As to those who have set up for teachers of the sciences, 
when they drop their character, and at intervals speak their 
sentiments, they complain of the subtilty of nature, the 
concealment of truth, the obscurity of things, the entangle- 
ment of causes, and the imperfections of the human under- 
standing ; thus rather choosing to accuse the common state 
of men and things, than make confession of themselves. It is 
also frequent with them to adjudge that impossible in an art, 
which they find that art does not affect ; by which means they 
screen indolence and ignorance from the reproach they merit. 
The knowledge delivered down to us is barren in effects, 
fruitful in questions, slow and languid in improvement, ex- 
hibiting in its generalities the counterfeits of perfection, but 
meagre in its details, popular in its aim, but suspected by its 
very promoters, and therefore defended and propagated by 
artifice and chicanery. And even those who by experience 
propose to enlarge the bounds of the sciences, scarce ever 
entirely quit the received opinions, and go to the fountain- 
head, but think it enough to add somewhat of their own ; 
as prudentially considering, that at the time they show their 
modesty in assenting, they may have a liberty of adding. 
But whilst this regard is shown to opinions and moral 
considerations, the sciences are greatly hurt by such a languid 
procedure ; for it is scarce possible at once to admire and 
excel an author : as water rises no higher than the reservoir 
it falls from. Such men, therefore, though they improve 
some things, yet advance the sciences but little, or rather 
amend than enlarge them. 

There have been also bolder spirits, and greater geniuses, 
who thought themselves at liberty to overturn and destroy 
the ancient doctrine, and make way for themselves and their 
opinions ; but without any great advantage from the dis- 
turbance ; as they did not effectively enlarge philosophy and 
arts by practical works, but only endeavoured to substitute 
new dogmas, and to transfer the empire of opinion to them- 
selves, with but small advantage; for opposite errors proceed 
mostly from common causes. 

As for those who, neither wedded to their own nor others' 
opinions, but continuing friends to liberty, made use of 
assistance in their inquiries, the success they met with did 



THE GEEAT INSTAURATION. 

not answer expectation, the attempt, though laudable, being 
but feeble ; for pursuing only the probable reasons of 
things, they were carried about in a circle of arguments, 
and taking a promiscuous liberty, preserved not the rigour of 
true inquirers ; whilst none of them duly conversed with 
experience and things themselves. Others again, who 
commit themselves to mechanical experience, yet make their 
experiments at random, without any method of inquiry. 
And the greatest part of these have no considerable views, 
but esteem it a great matter if they can make a single dis- 
covery j which is both a trifling and unskilful procedure, 
as no one can justly or successfully discover the nature of any 
one thing in that thing itself, or without numerous experi- 
ments which lead to farther inquiries. And we must not 
omit to observe, that all the industry displayed in experiment 
lias been directed by too indiscreet a zeal at some prejudged 
effect, seeking those which produced fruit rather than know- 
ledge, in opposition to the Divine method, which on the 
first day created time alone, delaying its material creations 
until the sun had illumined space. 

Lastly, those who recommend logic as the best and surest 
instrument for improving the sciences, very justly observe, 
that the understanding, left to itself, ought always to be 
suspected. But here the remedy is neither equal to the 
disease, nor approved ; for though the logic in use may be 
properly applied in civil affairs, and the arts that are founded 
in discourse and opinion, yet it by no means reaches the 
subtilty of nature ; and by catching at what it cannot hold, 
rather serves to establish errors, and fix them deeper, than 
open the way of truth. b 

Upon the whole, men do not hitherto appear to be happily 
inclined and fitted for the sciences, either by their own in- 
dustry, or the authority of authors, especially as there is little 
dependence to be had upon the common demonstrations and 
experiments ; whilst the structure of the universe renders it 
a labyrinth to the understanding ; where the paths are not 
only everywhere doubtful, but the appearances of things and 
their signs deceitful ; and the wreaths and knots of nature 

b For exemplifications of these opinions, the reader may consult 
Morhof's "Polyhistor.," and the other writers upon polymathy and 
Jiterary history. Shaw. 



PREFACE. 7 

intricately turned and twisted : c through all which we are 
only to be conducted by the uncertain light of the senses, 
that sometimes shines, and sometimes hides its head ; and by 
collections of experiments and particular facts, in which no 
guides can be trusted, as wanting direction themselves, and 
adding to the errors of the rest. In this melancholy state 
of things, one might be apt to despair both of the under- 
standing left to itself, and of all fortuitous helps ; as of a 
state irremediable by the utmost efforts of the human 
genius, or the often-repeated chance of trial. The only clue 
and method is to begin all anew, and direct our steps in a 
certain order, from the very first perceptions of the senses. 
Yet I must not be understood to say that nothing has been 
done in former ages, for the ancients have shown themselves 
worthy of admiration in everything which concerned either 
wit or abstract reflection ; but, as in former ages, when men 
at sea, directing their course solely by the observation of the 
stars, might coast along the shores of the continent, but 
could not trust themselves to the wide ocean, or discover new 
worlds, until the use of the compass was known : even so 
the present discoveries referring to matters immediately 
under the jurisdiction of the senses, are such as might easily 
result from experience and discussion ; but before we can 
enter the remote and hidden parts of nature, it is requisite 
that a better and more perfect application of the human 
mind should be introduced. This, however, is not to be 
understood as if nothing had been effected by the immense 
labours of so many past ages ; as the ancients have per- 
formed surprisingly in subjects that required abstract medi- 
tation, and force of genius. But as navigation was imperfect 
before the use of the conipass, so will many secrets of nature 
and art remain undiscovered, without a more perfect know- 
ledge of the understanding, its uses, and ways of working. 

For our own part, from an earnest desire of truth, we 
have committed ourselves to doubtful, difficult, and solitary 
ways ; and relying on the Divine assistance, have supported 
our minds against the vehemence of opinions, our own in- 
ternal doubts and scruples, and the darkness and fantastic 

c By wreaths and knots, is understood the apparent complication of 
causes, and the superaddition of properties not essential to things ; as 
light to heat, yellowness to gold, pellucidity to glass, &c. Shaw. 



8 THE GREAT INSTALLATION. 

images of tlie mind ; that at length we might make more 
sure and certain discoveries for the benefit of posterity. 
And if we shall have effected anything to the purpose, what 
led us to it was a true and genuine humiliation of mind. Those 
who before us applied themselves to the discovery of arts, 
having just glanced upon things, examples, and experiments ; 
immediately, as if invention was but a kind of contemplation, 
raised up their own spirits to deliver oracles : whereas our 
method is continually to dwell among things soberly, without 
abstracting or setting the understanding farther from them 
than makes their images meet; which leaves but little work 
for genius and mental abilities. And the same humility 
that we practise in learning, the same we also observe in 
teaching, without endeavouring to stamp a dignity on any 
of our inventions, by the triumphs of confutation, the cita- 
tions of antiquity, the producing of authorities, or the mask 
of obscurity ; as any one might do, who had rather give 
lustre to his own name, than light to the minds of others. 
We offer no violence, and spread no nets for the judgments 
of men, but lead them on to things themselves, and their 
relations ; that they may view their own stores, what they 
have to reason about, and what they may add, or procure, 
for the common good. And if at any time ourselves have 
erred, mistook, or broke off too soon, yet as we only propose 
to exhibit things naked, and open, as they are, our errors 
may be the readier observed, and separated, before they con- 
siderably infect the mass of knowledge ; and our labours be 
the more easily continued. And thus we hope to establish 
for ever a true and legitimate union between the experi- 
mental and rational faculty, whose fallen and inauspicious 
divorces and repudiations have disturbed everything in the 
family of mankind. 

But as these great things are not at our disposal, we here, 
at the entrance of our work, with the utmost humility and 
fervency, put forth our prayers to God, that remembering the 
miseries of mankind, and the pilgrimage of this life, where 
we pass but few days and sorrowful, he would vouchsafe, 
through our hands, and the hands of others, to whom he has 
given the like mind, to relieve the human race by a new act 
of his bounty. We likewise humbly beseech him, that what 
is human may not clash with what is divine; and that when 



PREFACE. 9 

the ways of the senses are opened, and a greater natural light 
set up in the mind, nothing of incredulity and blindness 
towards divine mysteries may arise; but rather that the 
understanding, now cleared up, and purged of all vanity and 
superstition, may remain entirely subject to the divine 
oracles, and yield to faith, r the tilings that are faith's : and 
lastly, that expelling the poisonous knowledge infused by 
the serpent, which puffs up and swells the human mind, we 
may neither be wise above measure, nor go beyond the bounds 
of sobriety, but pursue the truth in charity. 

We now turn ourselves to men, with a few wholesome 
admonitions and just requests. And first, we admonish them 
to continue in a sense of their duty, as to divine matters ; for 
the senses are like the sun, which displays the face of the 
earth, but shuts up that of the heavens : and again, that 
they run not into the contrary extreme, which they certainly 
will do, if they think an inquiry into nature any way forbid 
them by religion. It was not that pure and unspotted 
natural knowledge whereby Adam gave names to things, 
agreeable to their natures, which caused his fall ; but an 
ambitious and authoritative desire of moral knowledge, to 
judge of good and evil, which makes men revolt from God, 
and obey no laws but those of their own will. But for the 
sciences, which contemplate nature, the sacred philosopher 
declares, " It is the glory of God to conceal a thing, but the 
glory of a king to find it out." d As if the Divine Being 
thus indulgently condescended to exercise the human mind 
by philosophical inquiries. 

In the next place, we advise all mankind to think of the 
true ends of knowledge, and that they endeavour not after it 
for curiosity, contention, or the sake of despising others, nor 
yet for profit, reputation, power, or any such inferior con- 
sideration, but solely for the occasions and uses of life ; all 
along conducting and perfecting it in the spirit of benevo- 
lence. Our requests are, — 1. That men do not conceive we 
here deliver an opinion, but a work ; and assure themselves 
we attempt not to found any sect or particular doctrine, but 
to fix an extensive basis for the service of human nature. 
2. That, for their own sakes, they lay aside the zeal and 

A Prov. xx7. 2. 



10 THE GREAT INSTAURATION. 

prejudices of opinions, and endeavour the common good ; 
and that being, by our assistance, freed and kept clear from 
the errors and hinderances of the way, they would themselves 
also take part of the task. 3. That they do not despair, as 
imagining our project for a grand restoration, or advancement 
of all kinds of knowledge, infinitely beyond the power of 
mortals to execute ; whilst in reality, it is the genuine stop 
and prevention of infinite error. Indeed, as our state is 
mortal, and human, a full accomplishment cannot be expected 
in a single age, and must therefore be commended to 
posterity. Nor could we hope to succeed, if we arrogantly 
searched for the sciences in the narrow cells of the human 
understanding, and not submissively in the wider world. 
4. In the last place, to prevent ill effects from contention, 
we desire mankind to consider how far they have a right 
to judge our performance, upon the foundations here 
laid down : for we reject all that knowledge which is too 
hastily abstracted from things, as vague, disorderly, and ill- 
formed ; and we cannot be expected to abide by a judgment 
which is itself called in question. 



DISTRIBUTION OF THE WORK. 

IN SIX PAETS. 

1. Survey and Extension of the Sciences; or, the Advancement of 

Learning. 

2. Novum Organum ; or, Precepts for the Interpretation of Nature. 

3. Phenomena of the Universe ; or, Natural and Experimental History, 

on which to found Philosophy. 

4. Ladder of the Understanding. 

t>. Precursors, or Anticipators, of the Second Philosophy. 
3. Second Philosophy ; or, Active Science. 

We divide the whole of the work into six parts : the first 
whereof gives the substance, or general description of the 
knowledge which mankind at present possess ; choosing to 
dwell a little upon things already received, that we may the 
easier perfect the old, and lead on to new ; being equally in- 
clined to cultivate the discoveries of antiquity, as to strike 
out fresh paths of science. In classing the sciences, we com- 



DISTRIBUTION OF THE WORK. 11 

prehend not only the things already invented and known, 
but also those omitted and wanted ; for the intellectual 
globe, as well as the terrestrial, has both its frosts and 
deserts. It is therefore no wonder if we sometimes depart 
from the common divisions. For an addition, whilst it alters 
the whole, must necessarily alter the parts, and their sections ; 
whereas the received divisions are only fitted to the received 
sum of the sciences, as it now stands. With regard to the 
things we shall note as defective ; it will be our method to 
give more than the bare titles, or short heads of what we 
desire to have done ; with particular care, where the dignity 
or difficulty of the subject requires it, either to lay down 
the rules for effecting the work, or make an attempt of our 
own, by way of example, or pattern, of the whole. For it 
concerns our own character, no less than the advantage 
of others, to know that a mere capricious idea has not 
presented the subject to our mind, and that all we desire and 
aim at is a wish. For our designs are within the power of 
all to compass, and we ourselves have certain and evident 
demonstrations of their utility. We come not hither, as 
augurs, to measure out regions in our mind by divination, 
but like generals, to invade them for conquest. And this is 
the first part of the work. 

When we have gone through the ancient arts, we shall 
prepare the human understanding for pressing on beyond 
them. The second object of the work embraces the doc- 
trine of a more perfect use of reason, and the true helps 
of the intellectual faculties, so as to raise and enlarge the 
powers of the mind; and, as far as the condition of humanity 
allows, to fit it to conquer the difficulties and obscurities of 
nature. The thing we mean, is a kind of logic, by us called 
The Art of interpreting Nature ; as differing widely from 
the common logic, which, however, pretends to assist and 
direct the understanding, and in that they agree : but the 
difference betwixt them consists in three things, viz., the end, 
the order of demonstrating, and the grounds of inquiry. 

The end of our new logic is to find, not arguments, but 
arts ; not what agrees with principles, but principles them- 
selves : not probable reasons, but plans and designs of works — 
a different intention producing a different effect. In one the 
adversary is conquered by dispute, and in the other nature 



12 THE GREAT INSTALLATION. 

by works. The nature and order of the demonstrations 
agree with this object. For in common logic, almost our 
whole labour is spent upon the syllogism. Logicians hitherto 
appear scarcely to have noticed induction, passing it over 
with some slight comment. But we reject the syllogistic 
method as being too confused, and allowing nature to escape 
out of our hands. For though nobody can doubt that those 
things which agree with the middle term agree with each 
other, nevertheless, there is this source of error, that a 
syllogism consists of propositions, propositions of words ; and 
words are but the token and signs of things. Now, if the 
first notions, which are, as it were, the soul of words, and 
the basis of every philosophical fabric, are hastily abstracted 
from things, and vague and not clearly defined and limited, 
the whole structure falls to the ground. We therefore 
reject the syllogism, and that not only as regards first 
principles, to which logicians do not apply them, but also with 
respect to intermediate propositions, which the syllogism con- 
trives to manage in such a way as to render barren in effect, 
unfit for practice, and clearly unsuited to the active branch 
of the sciences. Nevertheless, we would leave to the syllo- 
gism, and such celebrated and applauded demonstrations, 
their jurisdiction over popular and speculative acts ; while, in 
everything relating to the nature of things, we make use of 
induction for both our major and minor propositions; for 
we consider induction as that form of demonstration which 
closes in upon nature and presses on, and, as it were, mixes 
itself with action. Whence the common order of demon- 
strating is absolutely inverted ; for instead of flying imme- 
diately from the senses, and particulars, to generals, as to 
certain fixed poles, about which disputes always turn, and 
deriving others from these by intermediates, in a short, 
indeed, but precipitate manner, fit for controversy, but unfit 
to close with nature ; we continually raise up propositions 
by degrees, and in the last place, come to the most general 
axioms, which are not notional, but well defined, and what 
nature allows of, as entering into the very essence of things. a 

a This passage, though tersely and energetically expressed, is founded 
upon a misconception of deduction, or, as Bacon phrases it, syllogistic 
reasoning, and its relation to induction. The two processes are only 
reverse methods of inferences, the one concluding from a general to a 
particular, and the other from a particular to a general, and both 



DISTRIBUTION OF THE WORK. 13 

But the more difficult part of our task consists in the form 
of induction, and the judgment to be made by it ; for that 
form of the logicians which proceeds by simple enumeration, 
is a childish thing, concludes unsafely, lies open to con- 
tradictory instances, and regards only common matters; yet 
determines nothing : whilst the sciences require such a form 
of induction, as can separate, adjust, and verify experience, 
and come to a necessary determination by proper exclusions 
and rejections. 

JSTor is this all ; for we likewise lay the foundations of the 
sciences stronger and closer, and begin our inquiries deeper 
than men have hitherto done, bringing those things to the 
test which the common logic has taken upon trust. The 
logicians borrow the principles of the sciences from the 
sciences themselves, venerate the first notions of the mind, 
and acquiesce in the immediate informations of the senses, 
when rightly disposed ; but we judge, that a real logic should 
enter every province of the sciences with a greater authority 

schemata are resolvable into propositions, and propositions into words, 
which, as he says, are but the tokens and signs of things. Now if 
these first notions, which are as it were the soul of words and the basis 
of eveiy philosophic fabric, be hastily abstracted from things, and vague 
and not clearly defined and limited, the whole structure, whether 
erected by induction or deduction, or both, as is most frequently the 
case, must fall to the ground. The error, therefore, does not lie in the 
deductive mode of proof, without which physical science could never 
advance beyond its empirical stage, but in clothing this method 
in the vulgar language of the day, and reasoning upon its terms as if 
they pointed at some fact or antithesis in nature, instead of pre- 
viously testing the accuracy of such expressions by experiment and 
observation. As such notions are more general than the individual 
cases out of which they arise, it follows that this inquiry must be made 
through the medium of induction, and the essential merit of Bacon lies 
in framing a system of rules by which this ascending scale of inference 
may be secured from error. As the neglect of this important prelimi- 
nary to scientific investigation vitiated all the Aristotelian physics, and 
kept the human mind stationary for two thousand years, hardly too 
much praise can be conferred upon the philosopher who not only pointed 
out the gap but supplied the materials for its obliteration. The ardency 
of his nature, however, urged him to extremes, and he confounded the 
accuracy of the deductive method with the straw and stubble on which 
it attempted to erect a system of physics. In censuring intermediate 
propositions, Bacon appears to have been unaware that he was con- 
demning the only forms through which reason or inference can manifest 
itself, and lecturing mankind on the futility of an ineirnment which he 
was employing in every page of his book. Ed^ 



14 THE GREAT INSTAURATION. 

than their own principles can give ; and that such supposed 
principles should be examined, till they become absolutely- 
clear and certain. As for first notions of the mind, we 
suspect all those that the understanding, left to itself, 
procures ; nor ever allow them till approved and authorized 
by a second judgment. And with respect to the informations 
of the senses, we have many ways of examining them ; for the 
senses are fallacious, though they discover their own errors ; 
but these lie near, whilst the means of discovery are 
remote. 

The senses are faulty in two respects, as they either fail or 
deceive us. For there are many things that escape the 
senses, though ever so rightly disposed ; as by the subtilty of 
the whole body, or the minuteness of its parts ; the distance 
of place; the slowness or velocity of motion; the common- 
ness of the object, &c. Neither do the senses, when they lay 
hold of a thing, retain it strongly; for evidence, and the in- 
formations of sense, are in proportion to a man, and not in 
proportion to the universe. 1 * And it is a grand error to assert 
that sense is the measure of things. 

b Bacon held, that every perception is nothing more than the con- 
sciousness of some body acting either interiorly or from without upon 
that portion of the frame which is the point of contact. Hence all the 
knowledge we have of the material world arises from the movements 
which it generates in our senses. These sensations simply inform us 
that a wide class of objects exist independent of ourselves, which affect 
us in a certain manner, and do not convey into our minds the real pro- 
perties of such objects so much as the effects of the relation in which they 
stand to our senses. Human knowledge thus becomes relative ; and 
that which we call the relation of objects to one another, is nothing more 
than the relation which they have to our organization. Hence as these 
relations of objects, either internal or exterior to the mind vary, sensa- 
tions must vary along with them, and produce, even in the same indi- 
vidual, a crowd of impressions either conflicting or in some measure 
opposed to each other. So far as these feelings concern morals, it 
is the business of ethics to bring them under the influence of reason^ 
and, selecting out of them such as are calculated to dignify and- elevate 
man's nature, to impart to them a trenchant and permanent character. 
As respects that portion which flow in upon the mind from the internal 
world, it is the peculiar province of induction as reformed by our author, 
to separate such as are illusory from ~the real, and to construct out of 
the latter a series of axioms, expressing in hierarchical gradation the 
general system of laws by which the universe is governed. Ed. 

c The doctrine of the two last paragraphs may appear contradictory 
to the opinion of some philosophers, who maintain the infallibility of 



DISTRIBUTION OF THE WORK. 15 

To remedy this, we have from all quarters brought to- 
gether, and fitted helps for the senses ; and that rather by 
experiments than by instruments ; apt experiments being- 
much more subtile than the senses themselves, though 
assisted with the most finished instruments. We. therefore. 
lay no great stress upon the immediate and natural percep- 
tions of the senses, but desire the senses to judge only 
of experiments, and experiments to judge of things : on 
which foundation, we hope to be patrons of the senses, and 
interpreters of their oracles. And thus we mean to procure 
the things relating to the light of nature, and the setting 
it up in the mind ; which might well suifice, if the mind 
were as white paper. But since the minds of men are so 
strangely disposed, as not to receive the true images of 
things, it is necessary also that a remedy be found for this 
evil. 

The idols, or false notions, which possess the mind, are 
either acquired or innate. The acquired arise either from 
the opinions or sects of philosophers, or from preposterous 
laws of demonstration ; but the innate cleave to the nature 
of the understanding, which is found much more prone to 
error than the senses. For however men may amuse them- 
selves, and admire, or almost adore the mind, it is certain, 
that like an irregular glass, it alters the rays of things, by it^ 
figure, and different intersections. 

The two former kinds of idols may be extirpated, though 
with difficulty; but this third is insuperable. All that can 
be done, is to point them out, and mark, and convict that 
treacherous faculty of the mind; lest when the ancient errors 
are destroyed, new ones should sprout out from the rankness 
of the soil : and, on the other hand, to establish this for 
ever, that the understanding can make no judgment but by 

the senses, as well as of reason ; but the dispute perhaps turns rathe? 
upon words than things. Father Malbranche is express, that the 
senses never deceive us, yet as express that they should never be 
trusted, without being verified ; charging the errors arising in this case 
upon human liberty, which makes a wrong choice. See "Becherches 
de la Verite," liv. i. chaps. 5, 6, 7, 8. The difference may arise only 
from considering the senses in two different lights, viz. physically, or 
according to common use : and metaphysically, or abstractedly. The 
Novum Orga/nwn clears the whole. See also Marin Mersenus, " De hi 
Verity des Sciences." Ed. 



16 THE GREAT INST AUR ATI OX. 

induction, and the just form thereof. Whence the doctrine 
of purging the understanding requires three kinds of con- 
futations, to fit it for the investigation of truth ; viz., the 
confutation of philosophies, the confutation of demonstrations, 
and the confutation of the natural reason. But when these 
have ^been completed, and it has been clearly seen what 
results are to be expected from the nature of things, and the 
nature of the human mind, we shall have then furnished a 
nuptial couch for the mind and the universe, the divine 
goodness being our bridemaid. And let it be the prayer of 
our Epithalamium, that assistance to man may spring from 
this union, and a race of discoveries, which will contribute to 
his wants and vanquish his miseries. And this is the second 
part of the work. 

But as we propose not only to pave and show the way, 
but also to tread in it ourselves, we shall next exhibit the 
phenomena of the universe ; that is, such experience of all 
kinds, and such a natural history, as may afford a foundation 
to philosophy. For as no fine method of demonstration, or 
form of explaining nature, can preserve the mind from 
error, and support it from falling ; so neither can it hence 
receive any matter of science. Those, therefore, who deter- 
mine not to conjecture and guess, but to find^out and know; 
not to invent fables and romances of worlds, but to look into, 
and dissect the nature of this real world, must consult only 
things themselves. Nor can any force of genius, thought, or 
argument, be substituted for this labour, search, and in- 
f spection ; not even though all the wits of men were united : 
this, therefore, must either be had, or the business be deserted 
for ever. 

But the conduct of mankind has hitherto been such, that 
it is no wonder nature has not opened herself to them. For 
the information of the senses is treacherous and deceitful ; 
observation careless, irregular, and accidental ; tradition 
idle, rumorous, and vain ; practice narrow and servile ; 
experience blind, stupid, vague, and broken ; and natural 
history extremely light and empty : wretched materials for 
the understanding to fashion into philosophy and the sciences ! 
Then comes in a preposterous subtilty of argumentation and 
sifting, as a last remedy, that mends not the matter one jot, 
nor separates the errors. Whence there are absolutely no 



DISTRIBUTION OF THE WORK. 17 

hopes of enlarging and promoting the sciences, without 
rebuilding them. 

The first materials for this purpose must be taken from a 
new kind of natural history. The understanding must also 
have fit subjects to work upon, as well as real helps to work 
with. But our history, no less than our logic, differs from 
the common in many respects ; particularly, 1. In its end, 
or office ; 2. Its collection ; 3. Its subtilty ; 4. Its choice ; 
and 5. Its appointment for what is to follow. 

Our natural history is not designed so much to please by 
its variety, or benefit by gainful experiments, as to afford light 
to the discovery of causes, and hold out the breasts to 
philosophy ; for though we principally regard works, and the 
active parts of the sciences, yet we wait for the time of 
harvest, and would not reap the blade for the ear. We are 
well aware that axioms, rightly framed, will draw after them 
whole sheaves of works : but for that untimely and childish 
desire of seeing fruits of new works before the season, we 
absolutely condemn and reject it, as the golden apple that 
hinders the progress. 

With regard to its collection ; we propose to show nature 
not only in a free state, as in the history of meteors, 
minerals, plants, and animals ; but more particularly as she 
is bound, and tortured, pressed, formed, and turned out of 
her course by art and human industry. Hence we would set 
down all opposite experiments of the mechanic and liberal 
arts, with many others not yet formed into arts ; for the 
nature of tilings is better discovered by the torturings of art, 
than when they are left to themselves. Nor is it only a his- 
tory of bodies that we would give ; but also of their cardinal 
virtues, or fundamental qualities; as density, rarity, heat, 
cold, &c, which should be comprised in particular histories. 

The kind of experiments to be procured for our history 
are much more subtile and simple than the common ; abun- 
dance of them must be recovered from darkness, and are 
such as no one would have inquired after, that was not led 
by constant and certain tract to the discovery of causes ; as 
being hi themselves of no great use, and consequently not 
sought for their own sake, but with regard to works : like 
the letters of the alphabet with regard to discourse. 

In the choice of our narratives and experiments we hope 
2 c 



18 THE GREAT INSTAURATION. 

to have shown more care than the other writers of natural- 
history ; as receiving nothing but upon ocular demonstration, 
or the strictest scrutiny of examination ; and not heightening 
what is delivered to increase its miraculousness, but thoroughly 
purging it of superstition and fable. Besides this, we reject, 
with a particular mark, all those boasted and received false- 
hoods, which by a strange neglect have prevailed for so many 
ages, that they may no longer molest the sciences. For as 
the idle tales of nurses do really corrupt the minds of 
children, we cannot too carefully guard the infancy of 
philosophy from all vanity and superstition. And when any 
new or more curious experiment is offered, though it may 
seem to us certain and well founded ; yet we expressly add 
the manner wherein it was made ; that, after it shall be 
understood how things appear to us, men may beware of 
any error adhering to them, and search after more infallible 
proofs. We, likewise, all along interpose our directions, 
scruples, and cautions ; and religiously guard against phan- 
toms and illusions. 

Lastly, having well observed how far experiments and 
history distract the mind ; and how difficult it is, especially 
for tender or prejudiced persons, to converse with nature 
from the beginning, we shall continually subjoin our 
observations, as so many first glances of natural history at 
philosophy ; and this to give mankind some earnest, that 
they shall not be kept perpetually floating upon the waves of 
history ; and that when they come to the work of the 
understanding, and the explanation of nature, they may 
find all things in greater readiness. This will conclude the 
third part- 
After the understanding has been thus aided and fortified, 
we shall be prepared to enter upon philosophy itself. But 
in so difficult a task, there are certain things to be observed, 
as well for instruction as for present use. The first is to 
propose examples of inquiry and investigation, according to 
our own method, in certain subjects of the noblest kind, 
but greatly differing from each other, that a specimen may 
be had of every sort. By these examples we mean not 
illustrations of rules and precepts, but perfect models, which 
will exemplify the second part of this work, and represent, 
as it were, to the eye, the whole progress of the mind, and 



DISTRIBUTION OF THE WORK. 19 

the continued structure and order of invention, in the most 
chosen subjects, after the same manner as globes and machines 
facilitate the more abstruse and subtile demonstrations in 
mathematics. We assign the fourth part of our work to 
these examples, which are nothing else than a particular 
application of the second part of our undertaking. 01 

The fifth part is only temporary, or of use but till the rest 
are finished ; whence we look upon it as interest till the 
principal be paid ; for we do not propose to travel hood- 
winked, so as to take no notice of what may occur of use in 
the way. This part, therefore, will consist of such things as 
we have invented, experienced, or added, by the same 
common use of the understanding that others employ. For 
as we have greater hopes from our constant conversation 
with nature, than from our force of genius, the discoveries 
we shall thus make may serve as inns on the road, for the 
mind to repose in, during its progress to greater certainties. 
But this, without being at all disposed to abide by anything 
that is not discovered, or proved, by the true form of 
induction. ~Nov need any one be shocked at this suspension 
of the judgment, in a doctrine which does not assert that 
nothing is knowable ; but only that things cannot be known 
except in a certain order and method : whilst it allows parti- 
cular degrees of certaint}^, for the sake of commodiousness and 
use, until the mind shall enter on the explanation of causes, 
Nor were those schools of philosophers, 6 who held positive 
truth to be unattainable, inferior to others who dogmatized 
at will. They did not, however, like us, prepare helps 
for the guidance of the senses and understanding, as we 
have done, but at once abolished all belief and authority, 
which is a totally different and almost opposite matter. 

The sixth and last part of our w r ork, to which all the rest 
are subservient, is to lay down that philosophy which shall 
flow from the just, pure, and strict inquiry hitherto proposed. 
But to perfect this, is beyond both our abilities and our 
hopes, yet we shall lay the foundations of it, and recommend. 

d This part is what the author elsewhere terms scala intellectus, or 
the progress of the understanding, and was intended to be supplied by 
him in the way of monthly productions. See his dedication of the 
" History of the Winds" to Prince Charles. Shaw. 

e The later Academy, who held the dKaraX^xfyia. 

c2 



20 THE GREAT INSTALLATION. 

the superstructure to posterity. We design no contemptible 
beginning to the work ; and anticipate that the fortune of 
mankind will lead it to such a termination as is not possible for 
the present race of men to conceive. The point in view is not 
only the contemplative happiness, but the whole fortunes, 
and affairs, and powers, and works of men. For man being 
the minister and interpreter of nature, acts and understands 
so far as he has observed of the order, the works and mind 
of nature, and can proceed no farther ; for no power is able 
to loose or break the chain of causes, nor is nature to be 
conquered but by submission : w hence those twin intentions, 
human knowledge and human power, are really coincident ; 
and the greatest hinderance to works is the ignorance of 
causes. 

The capital precept for the whole undertaking is this, that 
the eye of the mind be never taken off from things themselves, 
but receive their images truly as they are. And God forbid 
that ever we should offer the dreams of fancy for a model of 
the world ; but rather in his kindness vouchsafe to us the 
means of writing a revelation and true vision of the traces 
and moulds of the Creator in his creatures. 

May thou, therefore, Father, who gavest the light of 
vision as the first fruit of creation, and who hast spread over 
the fall of man the light of thy understanding as the accom- 
plishment of thy works, guard and direct this work, which, 
issuing from thy goodness, seeks in return thy glory ! When 
thou hadst surveyed the works which thy hands had wrought, 
all seemed good in thy sight, and Thou restedst. But when 
man turned to the works of his hands, he found all vanity 
and vexation of spirit, and experienced no rest. If, however, 
we labour in thy works, Thou wilt make us to partake of thy 
vision and sabbath ; we, therefore, humbly beseech Thee to 
strengthen our purpose, that Thou mayst be willing to 
endow thy family of mankind with new gifts, through our 
hands, and the hands of those in whom Thou shalt implant 
the same spirit. 



FIRST PART 

OF THE 

GREAT INSTAURATION. 

THE DIGNITY AND ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING, 

IN NINE BOOKS. 



CONTENTS. 
BOOK I. 

The different Objections to Learning stated and confute J. Its Dignity 
and Merit maintained. 



BOOK II. 

CHAPTER I. 

General Division of Learning into History, Poetry, and Philosophy, in 
relation to the Three Faculties of the Mind, Memory, Imagination, 
and Reason. The same Distribution applies to Theology. 

CHAPTER II. 

History divided into Natural and Civil ; — Civil subdivided into Eccle- 
siastical and Literary. The Division oi Natural History, according 
to the Subject-matter, into the History of Generations, Prseter gene- 
rations, and the Arts. 

CHAPTER III. 

Second Division of Natural History, in relation to its Use and End, into 
Narrative and Inductive. The most important end of Natural His- 
tory is to aid in erecting a Body of Philosophy which appertains to 
Induction. Division ol the History of Generations into the History 
of the Heavens, the History oi Meteors, the History of the Earth and 
Sea, the History of Massive or Collective Bodies, and the History of 
Species. 

CHAPTER IV. 

Civil History divided into Ecclesiastical and Literary. Deficiency of 
the latter. The absence of Precepts for its compilation 



22 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 

CHAPTER V. 

The Dignity of Civil History and the Obstacles it has to encounter. 

CHAPTER VI. 

Division of Civil History into Memoirs, Antiquities, and Perfect 
History. 

CHAPTER VII. 

Division of Perfect History into Chronicles, Biographies, and Relations. 
The Development of their parts. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Division of the History of Times into Universal and Particular. The 
A dvantages and Disadvantages of both. 

CHAPTER IX. 

Second Division of the History of Times, into Annals and Journals. 

CHAPTER X. 

Second Division of Special Civil History into Pure and Mixed. 

CHAPTER XI. 

^Ecclesiastical History divided into the General History of the Church, 
History of Prophecy, and History of Providence. 

CHAPTER XII. 

The Appendix of History embraces the Words of Men, as the Body of 
History includes their Exploits. Its Division into Speeches, Letters, 
and Apophthegms. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

TThe Second leading Branch of Learning — Poetry. Its Division into 
Narrative, Dramatic, and Parabolic. Three Examples of the latter 
species detailed. 



BOOK III. 

CHAPTER I. 

Division of Learning into Theology and Philosophy. The latter divided 
into the Knowledge of God, of Nature, and of Man, Construction of 
Philosophia Prima as the Mother of all the Sciences. 

CHAPTER II. 

Natural Theology with its Appendix, the Knowledge of Angels and 
Spirits. 

CHAPTER III. 

Natural Philosophy divided into Speculative and Practical. The Neces- 
sity of keeping these Two Branches distinct. 



CONTENTS. 23 



CHAPTER IV. 

Division of the Speculative Branch of Natural Philosophy into Physics 
and Metaphysics. Physics relate to the Investigation of Efficient 
Causes and Matter ; Metaphysics to that of Final Causes and the 
Form. Division of Physics into the Sciences of the Principles of 
Things, the Structure of Things, and the Variety of Things. Division 
of Physics in relation to the Variety of Things into Abstract and 
Concrete. Division of Concretes agrees with the Distribution of the 
Parts of Natural History. Division of Abstracts into the Doctrine 
of Material Forms and Motion. Appendix of Speculative Physics 
twofold : viz., Natural Problems and the Opinions of Ancient Philo- 
sophers. Metaphysics divided into the Knowledge of Forms and the 
Doctrine of Final Causes. 



CHAPTER V. 

Division of the Practical Branch of Natural Philosophy into Mechanics 
and Magic (Experimental Philosophy), which correspond to the Spe- 
culative Division — Mechanics to Physics, and Magic to Metaphysics. 
The word Magic cleared from False Interpretation. Appendix to 
Active Science twofold : viz., an Inventory of Human Helps and a 
Catalogue of Things of Multifarious Use. 

CHAPTER VI. 

The Great Appendix of Natural Philosophy both Speculative and Prac- 
tical. Mathematics. Its Proper Position not among the Substantial 
Sciences, but in their Appendix. Mathematics divided into Pure 
and Mixed. 



BOOK IV. 

CHAPTER I. 

Division of the Knowledge of Man into Human and Civil Philosophy. 
Human Philosophy divided into the Doctrine of the Body and Soul. 
The Construction of one General Science, including the Nature and 
State of Man. The latter divided into the Doctrine of the Human 
Person and the Connection of the Soul with the Body. Division of 
the Doctrine of the Person of Man into that of his Miseries and Pre- 
rogatives. Division of the Relations between the Soul and the Body 
into the Doctrines of Indications and Impressions. Physiognomy and 
the Interpretation of Dreams assigned to the Doctrine of Indications. 

CHAPTER II. 

Division of the Knowledge of the Human Body into the Medicinal, 
Cosmetic, Athletic and the Voluptuary Arts. Division of Medicine 
into Three Functions : viz., the Preservation of Health, the Cure of 
Diseases, and the Prolongation ol Life. The last distinct from the 
two former. 



24 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING, 



CHAPTEE III. 

Division of the Doctrine of the Human Soul into that of the Inspired 
Essence and the Knowledge of the Sensible or Produced Soul. 
Second Division of the same philosophy into the Doctrine of the 
Substance and the Faculties of the Soul. The Use and Objects of 
the latter. Two Appendices to the Doctrine of the Faculties of the 
Soul : viz., Natural Divination and Fascination (Mesmerism). The 
Faculties of the Sensible Soul divided into those of Motion and Sense. 



BOOK V. 

CHAPTER I. 

Division of the Use and Objects of the Faculties of the Soul into Logic 
and Ethics. Division of Logic into the Arts of Invention, Judg- 
ment, Memory, and Tradition. 

CHAPTER II. 

Division of Invention into the Invention of Arts and Arguments. The 
former, though the more important of them, is wanting. Division of 
the Invention of Arts into Literate (Instructed) Experience and a 
New Method (Novum Organum). An Illustration of Literate Expe- 
rience. 

CHAPTER III. 

Division of the Invention of Arguments into Promptuary, or Places of 
Preparation, and Topical, or Places of Suggestion. The Division of 
Topics into General and Particular. An Example of Particular Topics 
afforded by an Inquiry into the Nature of the Qualities of Light and 
Heavy. 

CHAPTER IV. 

The Art of Judgment divided into Induction and the Syllogism. Induc- 
tion developed in the Novum Organum. The Syllogism divided into 
Direct and Inverse Reduction. Inverse Reduction divided into the 
Doctrine of Analytics and Confutations. The Division of the latter 
into Confutations of Sophisms, the Unmasking of Vulgarisms (Equi- 
vocal Terms), and the Destruction of Delusive Images or Idols. 
Delusive Appearances divided into Idola Tribfis, Idola Speeds, and 
Idola Fori. Appendix to the Art of Judgment. The Adapting the 
Demonstration to the Nature of the Subject. 

CHAPTER V. 

Division of the Retentive Art into the Aids of the Memory and the 
Nature of the Memory itself. Division of the Doctrine of Memory 
into Prenotion and Emblem. 



CONTENTS. ' 25 



BOOK VI. 

CHAPTER I. 

Division of Tradition into the Doctrine of the Organ, the Method and 
the Illustration of Speech. The Organ of Speech divided into the 
Knowledge of the Marks of Things, of Speaking, and Writing. The, 
two last comprise the two Branches of Grammar. The Marks of 
Things divided into Hieroglyphics and Real Characters. Grammar 
again divided into Literary and Philosophical. Prosody referred to 
the Doctrine of Speech and Ciphers to the Department of Writing. 

CHAPTER II. 

Method of Speech includes a Wide Part of Tradition. Styled the 
Wisdom of Delivery. Various kinds of Methods enumerated. Their 
respective Merits. 

CHAPTER III. 

The Grounds and Functions of Rhetoric. Three Appendices which 
belong only to the Preparatory Part, viz., the Colours of Good and 
Evil, both simple and composed ; the Antithesis of Things (the pro 
and con. of General Questions) j the Minor Forms of Speech (the 
Elaboration of Exordiums, Perorations, and Leading Arguments). 

CHAPTER IV. 

Two General Appendices to Tradition, viz., the Arts of Teaching and 
Criticism. 



BOOK VII. 

CHAPTER I. 

Ethics divided into the Doctrine of Models and the Georgics (Culture) 
of the Mind. Division of Models into the Absolute and Comparative 
Good. Absolute Good divided into Personal and National. 

CHAPTER II. 

Division of Individual Good into Active and Passive. That of Passive 
Good into Conservative and Perfective. Good of the Commonwealth 
divided into General and Respective. 

CHAPTER III. 

The Culture of the Mind divided into the Knowledge of Characteristic 
Differences of Affections, of Remedies and Cures. Appendix relating 
to the Harmony between the Pleasures of the Mind and the Body. 



26 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 



BOOK VIII. 

CHAPTER I. 

Civil Knowledge divided into the Art of Conversation, the Art of Nego- 
tiation, and the Art of State Policy. 

CHAPTER II. 

The Art of Negotiation divided into the Knowledge of Dispersed Occa- 
sions (Conduct in Particular Emergencies), and into the Science of 
Rising in Life. Examples of the former drawn from Solomon. Pre- 
cepts relating to Self-advancement. 

CHAPTER III. 

The Arts of Empire or State Policy omitted. Two Deficiencies alone 
noticed. The Art of Enlarging the Bounds of Empire, and the 
Knowledge of Universal Justice drawn from the Fountains of Law. 



BOOK IX. 

The Compartments of Theology omitted. Three Deficiencies pointed 
out. The Right Use of Reason in Matters of Faith. The Know- 
ledge of the Degrees of Unity in the City of God. The Emanations 
of the Holy Scriptures. 



ON THE DIGNITY AND 

ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 
FIRST BOOK. 



The Different Objections to Learning stated and confuted ; its Dignity 
and Merit maintained. 

TO THE KING. 

As under the old law, most excellent king, there were 
daily sacrifices and free oblations 3 — the one arising out of 
ritual observance, and the other from a pious generosity, so 
I deem that all faithful subjects owe their kings a double 
tribute of affection and duty. In the first I hope I shall 
never be found deficient, but as regards the latter, though 
doubtful of the worthiness of my choice, I thought it more 
befitting to tender to your Majesty that service which rather 
refers to the excellence of your individual person than to 
the business of the state. 

In bearing your Majesty in mind, as is frequently my 
custom and duty, I have been often struck with admiration, 
apart from your other gifts of virtue and fortune, at the 
surprising development of that part of your nature which 
philosophers call intellectual. The deep and broad capacity 
of your mind, the grasp of your memory, the quickness of 
your apprehension, the penetration of your judgment, your 
lucid method of arrangement, and easy facility of speech : — 
at such extraordinary endowments I am forcibly reminded 
of the saying of Plato, "that all science is but remem- 
brance," 15 and that the human mind is originally imbued 
with all knowledge; that which she seems adventitiously to 
acquire in life being nothing more than a return to her first 
conceptions, which had been overlaid by the grossness of the 

a See Numb, xxviii. 23 ; Levit. xxii. 18. 

b Plato's Phaedo, i. 72 (Steph.) ; Theaat. i. 166, 191; Menon, ii. 81; 
and Aristot. de Memor. 2. 



28 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK I. 

"body. In no person so much as your Majesty does this 
opinion appear more fully confirmed, your soul being apt to 
kindle at the intrusion of the slightest object; and even at 
the spark of a thought foreign to the purpose to burst into 
flame. As the Scripture says of the wisest king, " That his 
heart was as the sands of the sea," c which, though one of 
the largest bodies, contains the finest and smallest particles 
of matter. In like manner God has endowed your Majesty 
with a mind capable of grasping the largest subjects and 
comprehending the least, though such an instrument seems 
an impossibility in nature. As regards your readiness of 
speech, I am reminded of that saying of Tacitus concerning 
Augustus Csesar, "Augusto profluensut quae principem virum 
deceret, eloquentia fuit." d For all eloquence which is affected 
or overlaboured, or merely imitative, though otherwise ex- 
cellent, carries with it an air of servility, nor is it free to 
follow its own impulses. But your Majesty's eloquence is 
indeed royal, streaming and branching out in nature's fashion 
as from a fountain, copious and elegant, original and inimit- 
able.. And as in those things which concern your crown and 
family, virtue seems to contend with fortune — your Majesty 
being possessed of a virtuous disposition and a prosperous 
government, a virtuous observance of the duties of the con- 
jugal state with most blessed and happy fruit of marriage, a 
virtuous and most Christian desire of peace at a time when 
contemporary princes seem no less inclined to harmony, — so 
likewise in intellectual gifts there appears as great a con- 
tention between your Majesty's natural talents and the 
universality and perfection of your learning. Nor indeed 
would it be easy to find any monarch since the Christian 
era who could bear any comparison with your Majesty in 
the variety and depth of your erudition. Let any one run 
over the whole line of kings, and he will agree with me. It 
indeed seems a great thing in a monarch, if he can find 
time to digest a compendium or imbibe the simple elements 
of science, or love and countenance learning; but that a 
king, and he a king born, should have drunk at the true 
fountain of knowledge, yea, rather, should have a fountain of 

c 3 Kings iv. 29. We may observe that Bacon invariably quotea 
from the Vulgate, to which our references point. 
d Tacitus, Annales, xiii. 3. 



EOOK I.] CAVILS AGAINST LEARNING. OBJECTIONS OF DIVINES. 29 

learning in himself, is indeed little short of a miracle. And 
the more since in your Majesty's heart are united all the 
treasures of sacred and profane knowledge, so that like 
Hermes your Majesty is invested with a triple glory, being 
distinguished no less by the power of a king than by the 
illumination of a priest and the learning of a philosopher. 
Since, then, your Majesty surpasses other monarchs by this 
property, which is peculiarly your own, it is but just that 
this dignified pre-eminence should not only be celebrated in 
the mouths of the present age, and be transmitted to pos- 
terity, but also that it should be engraved in some solid 
work which might serve to denote the power of so great a 
king and the height of his learning. 

Therefore, to return to our undertaking: no oblation 
seemed more suitable than some treatise relating to that 
purpose, the sum of which should consist of two parts, — the 
first of the excellence of learning, and the merit of those 
who labour judiciousty and with energy for its propagation 
and development. The second, to point out what part of 
knowledge has been already laboured and j^erfected, and 
what portions left unfinished or entirely neglected; in order, 
since I dare not positively advise your Majesty to adopt any 
particular course, that by a detailed representation of our 
wants, I may excite your Majesty to examine the treasures 
of your royal heart, and thence to extract, whatever to your 
magnanimity and wisdom may seem best fitted to enlarge 
the boundaries of knowledge. 

On the threshold of the first part it is advisable to 
sift the merits of knowledge, and clear it of the disgrace 
brought upon it by ignorance, whether disguised (1) in the 
zeal of divines, (2) the arrogance of politicians, or (3) the 
errors of men of letters. 

Some divines pretend, 1. " That knowledge is to be re- 
ceived with great limitation, as the aspiring to it was the 
original sin, and the cause of the fail; 2. That it has some- 
what of the serpent, and piuTeth up;" 3. That Solomon says, 
" Of making books there is no end : much study is weari- 
ness of the flesh ; for in much wisdom is much grief; and he 
that increaseth knowledge, increaseth sorrow :" f 4. " That 

e Poemander of Hermes Trismegistus. 
f Eccles. xii. 12, and i. 18. 



30 ADVANCEMENT OF LEABNING. [BOOK I. 

St. Paul cautions against being spoiled through vain philo- 
sophy :"S 5. "That experience shows learned men have been 
heretics ; and learned times inclined to atheism ; and that 
the contemplation of second causes takes from our depend- 
ence upon God, who is the first." 

To this we answer, 1. It was not the pure knowledge of 
nature, by the light whereof man gave names to all the 
creatures in Paradise, agreeable to their natures, that occa- 
sioned the fall ; but the proud knowledge of good and evil, 
with an intent in man to give law to himself, and depend no 
more upon God. 2. Nor can any quantity of natural know- 
ledge puff up the mind ; for nothing fills, much less distends 
the soul, but God. Whence as Solomon declares, " That the 
eye is not satisfied with seeing, nor the ear with hearing ;" h 
so of knowledge itself he says, " God hath made all things 
beautiful in their seasons; also he hath placed the world in 
man's heart ; yet cannot man find out the work which God 
worketh from the beginning to the end;" 1 hereby declaring 
plainly that God has framed the mind like a glass, capable of 
the image of the universe, and desirous to receive it as the 
eye to receive the light ; and thus it is not only pleased with 
the variety and vicissitudes of things, but also endeavours to 
find out the laws they observe in their changes and altera- 
tions. And if such be the extent of the mind, there is no 
danger of filling it with any quantity of knowledge. But it 
is merely from its quality when taken without the true cor- 
rective, that knowledge has somewhat of venom or malignity. 
The corrective which renders it sovereign is charity, for 
according to St. Paul, " Knowledge puffeth up, but charity 
builcleth." k 3. For the excess of writing and reading books, 
the anxiety of spirit proceeding from knowledge, and the 
admonition, that we be not seduced by vain philosophy ; when 
these passages are rightly understood, they mark out the 
boundaries of human knowledge, so as to comprehend the 
xuiiversal nature of things. These limitations are three : the 
first, that we should not place our felicity in knowledge, so 
as to forget mortality; the second, that we use knowledge 
so as to give ourselves ease and content, not distaste and 
repining; and the third, that we presume not by the con- 

s 1 Cor. viii. 1. h Eccles. i. 8. 

1 Eccles. iii. 11. k 1 Cor. viii. 1. 



BOOK I.] TRIPLE LIMITATION OF LEARNING. 31 

teniplation of nature, to attain to the mysteries of God. 
As to the first, Solomon excellently says, " I saw that 
wisdom exceileth folly as far as light excelleth darkness. 
The wise man's eyes are in his head, but the fool walketh in 
darkness ; and I myself perceived also that one event hap- 
peneth to them all." 1 And for the second, it is certain that 
no vexation or anxiety of mind results from knowledge, but 
merely by accident ; all knowledge, and admiration, which is 
the seed of knowledge, being pleasant in itself; but when we 
frame conclusions from our knowledge, apply them to our 
own particular, and thence minister to ourselves weak fears 
or vast desires ; then comes on that anxiety and trouble of 
mind which is here meant — when knowledge is no longer 
the dry light of Heraclitus, but the drenched one, steeped in 
the humours of the affections. 111 4. The third point deserves 
to be more dwelt upon; for if any man shall think, by his 
inquiries after material things, to discover the nature or will 
of God, he is indeed spoiled by vain philosophy; for the 
contemplation of God's works produces knowledge, though, 
with regard to him, not perfect knowledge, but wonder, 
which is broken knowledge. It may, therefore, be properly 
said, " That the sense resembles the sun, which shows the 
terrestrial globe, but conceals the celestial;" 11 for thus the 
sense discovers natural things, whilst it shuts up divine. 
And hence some learned men have, indeed, been heretical, 
whilst they sought to seize the secrets of the Deity borne 
on the waxen wings of the senses. 5. As to the point that 
too much knowledge should incline to atheism, and the 
ignorance of second causes make us more dependent upon 
God, we ask Job's question, " Will ye lie for God, as one man 
will do for another, to gratify him?" For certainly God 
works nothing in nature but by second causes ;P and to assert 
the contrary is mere imposture, as it were, in favour of God, 
and offering up to the author of truth the unclean sacrifice 
of a lie. Undoubtedly a superficial tincture of philosophy may 
incline the mind to atheism, yet a farther knowledge brings 

1 Eccles. ii. 13, 14. 

■ Ap. Stob. Serai, v. 120, in Eitter's Hist. Phil. § 47. 

n Phil. Jud. de Somnis, p. 41. 

Job xiii. 7. 

p Hooker, Ecci. Pol. i. 2 ; Butler, Anal, part i. c. 2. 



32 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [bOOKI. 

It back to religion; 9 For on tlie threshold of philosophy, 
where second causes appear to absorb the attention, some 
oblivion of the highest cause may ensue ; but when the mind 
goes deeper, and sees the dependence of causes and the works 
of Providence, it will easily perceive, according to the mytho- 
logy of the poets, that the upper link of Nature's chain is 
fastened to Jupiter's throne. 1 To conclude, let no one weakly 
imagine that man can search too far, or be too well studied 
in the book of God's word, and works, divinity, and philo- 
sophy ; but rather let them endeavour an endless progression 
in both, only applying all to charity, and not to pride — to 
use, not ostentation, without confounding the two different 
streams of philosophy and revelation together. s 

The reflections cast upon learning by politicians, are these. 
1. " That it enervates men's minds, and unfits them for 
arms ; 2. That it perverts their dispositions for government 
and politics ; 3. That it makes them too curious and irre- 
solute, by variety of reading ; too peremptory or positive by 
strictness of rules; too immoderate and conceited by the great- 
ness of instances ; too unsociable and incapacitated for the 
times, by the dissimilitude of examples ; or at least, 4. That 
it diverts from action and business, and leads to a love of re- 
tirement ; 5. That it introduces a relaxation in government, 
as every man is more ready to argue than obey ; whence 
Oato the censor — when Oarneades came ambassador to Home, 
and the young Romans, allured with his eloquence, flocked 
about him, — gave counsel in open senate, to grant him his 
despatch immediately, lest he should infect the minds of the 
youth, and insensibly occasion an alteration in the state."* 

The same conceit is manifest in Virgil, who, preferring the 
honour of his country to that of his profession, challenged 
the arts of policy in the Romans, as something superior to 

9 See the author's essay on Atheism, and Mr. Boyle's essays upon 
the Usefulness of Philosophy. 

r Iliad, viii. 19; and conf. Plato, Theset. i. 153. 

s The dispute betwixt the rational and scriptural divines is still on 
foot : the former are for reconciling reason and philosophy with faith 
and religion ; and the latter for keeping them distinct, as things incom- 
patible, or making reason and knowledge subject to faith and religion. 
The author is clear, that they should be kept separate, as will more 
fully appear hereafter, when he comes to treat of theology. Shmv. 

1 Plutarch in M. Cato. 



BOOK I.] ARMS AND LEARNING FL07RISH TOGETHER. 33 

letters, the pre-eminence in which, he freely assigns to the 
Grecians. 

" Tu regere imperio populos, Romane memento : 
Ha) tibi erunt artes." — iEn. vi. 851. 

And we also observe that Anytus, the accuser of Socrates, 
charged him in his impeachment with destroying, in the 
minds of young men, by liis rhetorical arts, all authority and 
reverence for the laws of the country. 11 

1. But these and the like imputations have rather a show 
of gravity, than any just ground ; for experience shows that 
learning and arms have flourished in the same persons and 
ages. As to persons, there are no better instances than 
Alexander and Csesar, the one Aristotle's scholar in philo- 
sophy, and the other Cicero's rival in eloquence ; and again, 
Epaminondas and Xenophon, the one whereof first abated 
the power of Sparta, and the other first paved the way 
lor subverting the Persian monarchy. This concurrence 
of learning and arms, is yet more visible in times than 
in persons, as an age exceeds a man. For in Egypt, 
Assyria, Persia, Greece, and Rome, the times most famous 
for arms are likewise most admired for learning ; so 
that the greatest authors and philosophers, the greatest 
leaders and governors, have lived in the same ages. Nor 
can it well be otherwise ; for as the fulness of human 
strength, both in body and mind, comes nearly at an age ; 
so arms and learning, one whereof corresponds to the body, 
the other to the soul, have a near concurrence in point of 
time. 

2. And that learning should rather prove detrimental 
than serviceable in the art of government, seems very 
improbable. It is wrong to trust the natural body to 
empirics, who commonly have a few receipts whereon they 
rely, but who know neither the causes of diseases, nor the 
constitutions of patients, nor the danger of accidents, nor the 
true methods of cure. And so it must needs be dangerous 
to have the civil body of states managed by empirical states- 
men, unless well mixed with others who are grounded in learn- 
ing. On the contrary, it is almost without instance, that 
any government was unprosperous under learned governors. 

u Plato, Apol. Soc. 
2 D 



34 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK L 

"For however common it lias been with politicians to dis- 
credit learned men, by the name of pedants, yet it appears 
from history, that the governments of princes in minority 
have excelled the governments of princes in maturity, merely 
because the management was in learned hands. The state 
of Home for the first five years, so much magnified, during 
the minority of Nero, was in the hands of Seneca, a pedant : 
so it was for ten years, during the minority of Gordianus the 
younger, with great applause in the hands of Misitheus, a 
pedant ; and. it was as happy before that, in the minority of 
Alexander Severus, under the rule of women, assisted by 
preceptors. And to look into the government of the bishops 
of Borne, particularly that of Pius and Sextus Quintus, who 
were both at their entrance esteemed but pedantical friars, 
we shall find that such popes did greater things, and pro- 
ceeded upon truer principles of state, than those who rose to 
the papacy from an education in civil affairs, and the courts 
of princes. For though men bred to learning are perhaps at 
a loss in points of convenience, and present accommodations; 
called x reasons of state, yet they are perfect in the plain 
grounds of religion, justice, honour, and moral virtue, which, 
if well pursued, there will be as little use of reasons of state, 
as of physic in a healthy constitution. Nor can the ex- 
perience of one man's life furnish examples and precedents 
for another's : present occurrences frequently correspond to 
ancient examples, better than to later. And lastly, the 
genius of any single man can no more equal learning, than a 
private purse hold way with the exchequer. 

3. As to the particular indispositions of the mind for 
politics and government, laid to tjie charge of learning, if 
they are allowed of any force, it must be remembered, that 
learning affords more remedies than it breeds diseases ; for 
if, by a secret operation, it renders men perplexed and 
irresolute, on the other hand, by plain precept, it teaches 
when, and upon what grounds, to resolve, and how to carry 
things in suspense, without prejudice : if it makes men 
positive and stiff, it shows what things are in their nature 
demonstrative, what conjectural ; and teaches the use of 
distinctions and exceptions, as well as the rigidness of prin- 

x By the Italians "Ragioni di stato." 



BOOK I.J THE BENEFIT OF READING. 35? 

ciples and rules. If it misleads, by the unsuitableness of 
examples, it shows the force of circumstances, the errors of 
comparisons, and the cautions of application ; so that in all 
cases, it rectifies more effectually than it perverts : and these 
remedies it conveys into the mind much more effectually by 
the force and variety of examples. Let a man look into the 
errors of Clement the Seventh, so livelily described by 
Guicciardini ; or into those of Cicero, described by himself 
in his epistles to Atticus, and he will fly from being irre- 
solute : let him look into the errors of Phocion, and he will 
beware of obstinacy or inflexibility : let him read the fable 
of Ixion/ and it will keep him from conceitedness : let hini 
look into the errors of the second Cato, and he will never 
tread opposite to theAvorld. 2 

■i. For the pretence that learning disposes to retirement, 
privacy, and sloth ; it were strange if what accustoms the 
mind to perpetual motion and agitation should induce in- 
dolence ; whereas no kind of men love business, for its own 
sake, but the learned ; whilst others love it for profit, as 
hirelings for the wages ; others for honour ; others because 
it bears them up in the eyes of men, and refreshes their 
reputations, which would otherwise fade ; or because it re- 
minds them of their fortune, and gives them opportunities of 
revenging and obliging ; or because it exercises some faculty, 
wherein they delight, and so keeps them in good humour 
with themselves. Whence, as false valour lies in the eyes 
of the beholders, such men's industry lies in the eyes of 
others, or is exercised with a view to their own designs ; 
whilst the learned love business, as an action according to 
nature, and agreeable to the health of the mind, as exercise 
is to that of the body : so that, of all men, they are the 
most indefatigable in such business as may deservedly fill and 
employ the mind. And if there are any laborious in study, 
yet idle in business, this proceeds either from a weakness of 
body, or a softness of disposition, and not from learning itself, 
as Seneca remarks, " Quidam tarn sunt umbratiles ut putent 
in turbido esse, quicquid in luce est." a The consciousness ot 
such a disposition may indeed incline a man to learning, but 
learning does not breed any such temper in him. 

y Pind. Pyth. ii. 21. z Cic. ad Att. ii. 1. 

a Seneca's Epistles, iii. near the end. 



30 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK I. 

If it be objected, that learning takes up much time, which 
might be better employed, I answer that the most active or 
busy men have many vacant hours, while they expect the 
tides and returns of business; and then the question is, how 
those spaces of leisure shall be filled up, whether with plea- 
sure or study? Demosthenes being taunted by ^Eschines, a 
man of pleasure, that his speeches smelt of the lamp, very 
pertly retorted, " There is great difference between the objects 
which you and I pursue by lamp-light." b No fear, therefore, 
that learning should displace business, for it rather keeps 
and defends the mind against idleness and pleasure, which 
might otherwise enter to the prejudice both of business and 
learning. 5, For the allegation that learning should under- 
mine the reverence due to laws and government, it is a mere 
calumny, without shadow of truth; for to say that blind 
custom of obedience should be a safer obligation than duty, 
taught and understood, is to say that a blind man may tread 
surer by a guide than a man with his eyes open can by a 
light. And, doubtless, learning makes the mind gentle and 
pliable to government, whereas ignorance renders it churlish 
and mutinous; and it is always found that the most bar- 
barous, rude, and ignorant times have been most tumultuous, 
changeable, and seditious. 

6. As to the judgment of Cato the Censor, he was punished 
for his contempt of learning, in the kind wherein he of- 
fended, for when past threescore the humour took him to 
learn Greek, which shows that his former censure of the 
Grecian learning was rather an affected gravity than his 
inward sense. And, indeed, the Romans never arrived at 
their height of empire till they had arrived at their height 
of arts ; for in the time of the two first Caasars, when their 
government was in its greatest perfection, there lived the 
best poet, Yirgil; the best historiographer, Livy; the best 
antiquary, Yarro ; and the best, or second best orator, Cicero, 
that the world has known. And as to the persecution of 
Socrates, the time must be remembered in which it occurred, 
viz., under the reign of the Thirty Tyrants, of all mortals the 
bloodiest and basest that ever reigned, since the government 

b Plutarch's Life of Demosthenes, not said of iEschirtes,, but 
Pytheas. 

« Plutarch's M. Cato. 



BOOK I.] OBJECTIONS TO LEARNED MEN REFUTED. 37 

had no sooner returned to its senses than that judgment was 
reversed Socrates, from being a criminal, started at once 
into a hero, his memory loaded with honours human and 
divine, and his discourses, which had been previously stigma- 
tized as immoral and profane, were .considered as there- 
formers of thought and manners. 1 * And let this suffice as an 
answer to those politicians who have presumed, whether 
itively or in earnest, to disparage learning. 

We come now to that sort of discredit which is brought 
q learning by learned men themselves; and this proceeds 
either (1) from their fortune, (2) their manners, or (3) the 
nature of their studies. 

1. The disrepute of learning from the fortune or condition 
oi the learned, regards either their indigence, retirement, or 
oness of employ. As to the point, that learned men grow 
not so soon rich as others, because they convert not their 
labours to profit, we might turn it over to the friars, of whom 
Machiavel said, "That the kingdom of the clergy had been long 
since at an end, if the reputation and reverence towards the 
poverty of the monks and mendicants had not borne out the 
excesses of bishops and prelates. Ve For so the splendour and 
magnificence of the great had long since sunk into rudeness 
and barbarism, if the poverty of learned men had not kept up 
civility and reputation. But to drop such advantages, it is 
worth observing how reverend and sacred poverty was 
esteemed for some ages in the Roman state, since, as Livy 
^avs, " There never was a republic greater, more venerable, 
and more abounding in good examples than the Roman, nor 
one that so long withstood avarice and luxury, or so much 
honoured poverty and parsimonyl"* And we see, when 
Rome degenerated, how Julius Csesar after his victory was 
counselled to begin the restoration of the state, by abolishing 
the reputation of wealth. And, indeed, as we truly say that 
blushing is the livery of virtue, though it may sometimes 
proceed from guilt/ so it holds true of poverty that it is the 
attendant of virtue, though sometimes it may proceed from 
mismanagement and accident. 

d Plato, Apol. Socr. e Mach, Hist, de Firenza, b. 10. 

f Livy's preface, towards the end. 

* Diog. Cyn. ap. Laert. vi. 54 ; compare Tacitus, Agric. 45, of 
I) ■nritian, u Saevusvultus et rubor, a quo se contra pudorem muniebat." 



38 ADVANCEMENT OF LEAENING. [BOOK I. 

As for retirement, it is a theme so common to extol a 
private life, not taxed with sensuality and sloth, for the 
liberty, the pleasure, and the freedom from indignity it 
affords, that every one praises it well, such an agreement 
it has to the nature and apprehensions of mankind. This 
may be added, that learned men, forgotten in states and not 
living in the eyes of the world, are like the images of Cassius 
and Brutus at the funeral of Junia, which not being repre- 
sented as many others were, Tacitus said of them that " they 
outshone the rest, because not seen." 11 

As for their meanness of employ, that most exposed to 
contempt is the education of youth, to which they are com- 
monly allotted. But how unjust this reflection is to all who 
measure things, not by popular opinion, but by reason, will 
appear in the fact that men are more careful what they put 
into new vessels than into those already seasoned. It is 
manifest that things in their weakest state usually demand 
our best attention and assistance. Hearken to the Hebrew 
rabbins : " Your young men shall see visions, your old men 
shall dream dreams;" 1 upon which the commentators observe, 
that youth is the worthier age, inasmuch as revelation by 
vision is clearer than by dreams. And to say the truth, how 
much soever the lives of pedants have been ridiculed upon 
the stage, as the emblem of tyranny, because the modern 
looseness or negligence has not duly regarded the choice of 
proper schoolmasters and tutors ; yet the wisdom of the 
ancientest and best times always complained that states were 
too busy with laws and too remiss in point of education. 
This excellent part of ancient discipline has hi some measure 
been revived of late by the colleges of Jesuits abroad; in 
regard of whose diligence in fashioning the morals and culti- 
vating the minds of youth, I may say, as Agesilaus said to 
his enemy Pharnabasus, " Talis quum sis, utinam noster 
esses." k 

2. The manners of learned men belong rather to their 
individual persons than to their studies or pursuits. No 
doubt, as in all other professions and conditions of life, bad 
and good are to be found among them ; yet it must be ad- 
mitted that learning and studies, unless they fall in with 

h Annals, iii. 76. 5 Joel ii. 28. k Plut. Life of Agesil. 



BOOK I.] OBJECTIONS TO LEARXED MEN REFUTED. 39 

very depraved dispositions, have, in conformity with the 
adage, " Abire studia in mores," a moral influence upon men's 
lives. For my part I cannot find that any disgrace to learn- 
ing can proceed from the habits of learned men, inherent in 
them as learned, unless peradventure that may be a fault 
which was attributed to Demosthenes, Cicero, the second Cato, 
and many others, that seeing the times they read of more 
pure than their own, pushed their servility too far in the 
reformation of manners, and to seek to impose, by austere 
precepts, the laws of ancient asceticism upon dissolute times. 
Yet even antiquity should have forewarned them of this 
excess; for Solon, upon being asked if he had given his citi- 
zens the best laws, replied, " The best they were capable of 
receiving." 1 And Plato, finding that he had fallen upon 
corrupt times, refused to take part in the administration ot 
the commonwealth, saying that a man should treat his coun- 
try with the same forbearance as his parents, and recall her 
from a wrong course, not by violence or contest, but by 
entreaty and persuasion. m Caesar's counsellor administers the 
same caveat in the words, " Non ad vetera instituta revocamus 
quae jampridem corruptis moribus ludibrio sunt." 11 Cicero 
points out the same error in the second Cato, when writing 
to his Mend Atticus: — " Cato optime sentit sed nocet 
interdum Reipublicae ; loquitur enim tanquam in Republica 
Platonis, non tanquam in faece Komuli." The same orator 
likewise excuses and blames the philosophers for being too 
exact in their precepts. These preceptors, said he, have 
stretched the lines and limits of duties beyond their natural 
boundaries, thinking that we might safely reform when we 
had reached the highest point of perfection.? And yet him- 
self stumbled over the same stone, so that he might have 
said, " Monitis sum minor ipse meis." <i 

3. Another fault laid to the charge of learned men, and 
arising from the nature of their studies, is, " That they 
esteem the preservation, good, and honour of their country 
before their own fortunes or safeties." Demosthenes said 
well to the Athenians, " My counsels are not such as tend to 

1 Plutarch, Solon. m Epist. Z. iii. 331 ; and cf. Ep. r. iii. 316. 

" Sallust, Cat. Conspiracy. ° Cicero to Atticus, epis. ii. 1. 

p Oratio pro L. Muraena, xxxi. 65. 

I am unequal to my teaching." — Ovid, Ars Amandi, ii. 518. 



40 ADVANCEMENT OF LEAHNING. [BOOK I, 

aggrandize myself and diminish you, but sometimes not ex- 
pedient for me to give, though always expedient for you to 
follow." 1 So Seneca, after consecrating the five years of 
Zero's minority to the immortal glory of learned governors, 
held on his honest course of good counsel after his master 
grew extremely corrupt. Nor can this* be otherwise; for 
learning gives men a true sense of their frailty, the casualty 
of fortune, and the dignity of the soul and its office; whence 
they cannot think any greatness of fortune a worthy end of 
their living, and therefore live so as to give a clear and 
acceptable account to God and their superiors; whilst the 
corrupter sort of politicians, who are not by learning esta- 
blished in a love of duty, nor ever look abroad into univer- 
sality, refer all things to themselves, and thrust their persons 
into the centre of the world, as if all lines should meet in 
them and their fortunes, without regarding in storms what 
becomes of the ship of the state, if they can save themselves 
in the cock-boat of their own fortune. 

Another charge brought against learned men, which may 
rather be defended than denied, is, " That they sometimes, 
fail in making court to particular persons." This want of 
application arises from two causes — the one the largeness of 
their mind, which can hardly submit to dwell in the exami- 
nation and observance of any one person. It is the speech 
of a lover rather than of a wise man, " Satis magnum alter 
alteri theatrum sumus." s Nevertheless he who cannot con- 
tract the sight of his mind, as well as dilate it, wants a great 
talent in life. The second cause is, no inability, but a rejec- 
tion upon choice and judgment; for the honest and just 
limits of observation in one person upon another extend no 
farther than to understand him sufficiently, so as to give- 
him no offence, or be able to counsel him, or to stand upon 
reasonable guard and caution with respect to one's self; but 
to pry deep into another man, to learn to work, wind, or 
govern him, proceeds from a double heart, which in friend- 
ship is want of integrity, and towards princes or superiors 
want of duty. The eastern custom which forbids subjects 
to gaze upon princes, though in the outward ceremony bar- 

r Oration on the Crown. s Seneca, Ep. Mor. i. 7. 



BOOK I.] AMIABLE INGENUOUSNESS OF LEARNED MEN. 41 

barons, has a good moral : for men ought not, by cunning 
and studied observations, to penetrate and search into the 
hearts of kings, which the Scripture declares inscrutable. 1 

Another fault noted in learned men is, " That they often 
fail in point of discretion and decency of behaviour, and 
commit errors in ordinary actions, whence vulgar capacities 
judge of them in greater matters by what they find them in 
small" But this consequence often deceives; for we may 
here justly apply the Baying of Tkemistocles, who being 
asked to touch a lute, replied, " He could not fiddle, but he 
could make a little village a great city." 11 Accordingly many 
may be well skilled in government and policy, who are 
defective in little punctilios. So Plato compared his master 
Socrates to the shop-pots of apothecaries painted on the out- 
side with apes and owls and antiques, but contained within 
sovereign and precious remedies. 2 

But we have nothing to ofier in excuse of those unworthy 
practices, whereby some professors have debased both them- 
selves and learning, as the trencher philosophers, who, in the 
decline of the Roinan state, were but a kind of solemn para- 
Lucian makes merry with this kind of gentry, in the 
person of a philosopher riding in a coach with a great lady, 
who would needs have him carry her lapdog, which he doing 
with an awkward officiousness, the page said, " He feared 
the Stoic would turn Cynic." >' But above all, the gross flat- 
tery wherein many abuse their wit, by turning Hecuba into 
Hellena, and Faustina into Lucretia, has most diminished 
the value and esteem of learning. ' L Xeither is the modern 
practice of dedications commendable; for books should have 
no patrons but truth and reason. And the ancient custom 
was, to dedicate them only to private and equal friends, or 
it' t" kings and great persons, it was to such as the subject 
suited. These and the like measures, therefore, deserve 

1 Prow xxv. u Cicero, Tuscul. Quaest. i. 2 ; Plutarch, Themistocles. 

x Conv. iii. '215; and cf. Xen. Symp. v. ~. 

••" Lucian de Merc. Concl. 33, 34. The raillery couched under the 
word cynic will become more evident if the reader will recollect the 
word is derived from i:vroc, the Greek name for dog. Those philoso- 
phers were called Cynics who. like Diogenes, rather barked than 
declaimed against the vices and the manners of their age. Ed. 

3 Du Bartas Bethulian*s Rescue, b. v. translated by Sylvester. 



42 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK I. 

rather to be censured than defended. Yet the submission 
of learned men to those in power cannot be condemned. 
Diogenes, to one who asked him " How it happened that 
philosophers followed the rich, and not the rich the philoso- 
phers?" answered, "Because the philosophers know what 
they want, but the rich do not." a And of the like nature 
was the answer of Aristippus, who having a petition to Dio- 
nysius, and no ear being given him, fell down at his feet, 
whereupon Dionysius gave him the hearing, and granted the 
suit; but when afterwards Aristippus was reproved for offer- 
ing such an indignity to philosophy as to fall at a tyrant's 
feet, he replied, " It was not his fault if Dionysius's ears were 
in his feet." b Nor was it accounted weakness, but discretion, 
in him c that would not dispute his best with the Emperor 
Adrian, excusing himself, " That it was reasonable to yield 
to one that commanded thirty legions." d These and the like 
condescensions to points of necessity and convenience, can- 
not be disallowed ; for though they may have some show of 
external meanness, yet in a judgment truly made, they are 
submissions to the occasion, and not to the person. 

We proceed to the errors and vanities intermixed with 
the studies of learned men, wherein the design is not to 
countenance such errors, but, by a censure and separation 
thereof to justify what is sound and good; for it is the man- 
ner of men, especially the evil-minded, to depreciate what is 
excellent and virtuous, by taking advantage over what is 
corrupt and degenerate. We reckon three principal vanities 
for which learning has been traduced. Those things are 
vain which are either false or frivolous, or deficient in truth 
or use ; and those persons are vain who are either credulous 
of falsities or curious in things of little use. But curiosity 
consists either in matter or words, that is, either in taking 
pains about vain things, or too much labour about the deli- 
cacy of language. There are, therefore, in reason as well as 
experience, three distempers of learning; viz., vain affecta- 
tions, vain disputes, and vain imaginations, or effeminate 
learning, contentious learning, and fantastical learning. 

The first disease, which consists in a luxuriancy of style, 
has been anciently esteemed at different times, but strangely 

a Laert. Life Diog. b Laert. Life Arist. 

c Demonax. d Spartianus, Vit. Adriani. § 15. 



BOOK I.] STYLE CONSIDERED MORE THAN MATTER. 43 

prevailed about the time of Luther, who, finding how great 
a task he had undertaken against the degenerate traditions 
of the Church, and being unassisted by the opinions of his 
own age, was forced to awake antiquity to make a party for 
him; whence the ancient authors both in divinity and the 
humanities, that had long slept in libraries, began to be 
generally read. This brought on a necessity of greater ap- 
plication to the original languages wherein those authors 
wrote, for the better understanding and application of their 
works. Hence also proceeded a delight in their manner of 
style and phrase, and an admiration of this kind of writing, 
which was much increased by the enmity now grown up 
against the schoolmen, who were generally of the contrary 
party, and whose writings were in a very different style and 
form, as taking the liberty to coin new and strange words, 
to avoid circumlocution and express their sentiments acutely, 
without regard to purity of diction and justness of phrase. 
And again, because the great labour then was to win and 
persuade the people, eloquence and variety of discourse grew 
into request as most suitable for the pulpit, and best adapted 
to the capacity of the vulgar; so that these four causes con- 
curring, viz., 1. admiration of the ancients; 2. enmity to the 
schoolmen; 3. an exact study of languages; and, 4. a desire 
of powerful preaching, — introduced an affected study of 
eloquence and copiousness of speech, which then began to 
flourish. This soon grew to excess, insomuch that men 
studied more after words than matter, more after the choice- 
ness of phrase, and the round and neat composition, sweet 
cadence of periods, the use of tropes and figures, than after 
weight of matter, dignity of subject, soundness of argument, 
life of invention, or depth of judgment. Then grew into 
esteem the flowing and watery vein of Orosius, e the Portugal 
bishop; then did Sturmius bestow such infinite pains upon 
Cicero and Hermogenes ; then did Car and Ascham, in their 
lectures and writings, almost deify Cicero and Demosthenes ; 
then grew the learning of the schoolmen to be utterly de- 
spised as barbarous ; and the whole bent of those times was 
rather upon fulness than weight. 

e Neither a Portuguese or a bishop, but a Spanish monk born at 
Tarragona, and sent by St. Augustine on a mission to Jerusalem in the 
commencement of the fifth century. 



44 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK fc 

Here, therefore, is the first distemper of learning, when 
men study words and not matter ; and though we have given 
an example of it from later times, yet such levities have and 
will be found more or less in all ages. And this must needs 
discredit learning, even with vulgar capacities, when they 
see learned men's works appear like the first letter of a 
patent, which, though finely flourished, is still but a letter. 
Pygmalion's frenzy seems a good emblem of this vanity ; f for 
words are but the images of matter, and unless they have 
life of reason and invention, to fall in love with them is to 
fall in love with a picture. 

Yet the illustrating the obscurities of philosophy with 
sensible and plausible elocution is not hastily to be con- 
demned; for hereof we have eminent examples in Xeno- 
phon, Cicero, Seneca, Plutarch, and Plato *s and the thing- 
itself is of great use ; for although it be some hinderance to 
the severe inquiry after truth, and the farther progress in 
philosophy, that it should too early prove satisfactory to the 
mind, and quench the desire of farther search, before a just 
period is made ; yet when we have occasion for learning and 
knowledge in civil life, as for conference, counsel, persuasion, 
discourse, or the like, we find it ready prepared to our hands 
in the authors who have wrote in this way. But the excess 
herein is so justly contemptible, that as Hercules, when he 
saw the statue of Adonis, who was the delight of Venus, in 
the temple, said with indignation, " There is no divinity in 
thee;" so all the followers of Hercules in learning, that is, 
the more severe and laborious inquirers after truth, will 
despise these delicacies and affectations as trivial and effe- 
minate. 

The luxuriant style was succeeded by another, which, 
though more chaste, has still its vanity, as turning wholly 
upon pointed expressions and short periods, so as to appear 
concise and round rather than dhTasive ; by which contri- 
vance the whole looks more ingenious than it is. Seneca 



f Ovid, Metam. x. 243. 

K M. Fontenelle is an eminent modern instance in the same way • 
who, particularly in his ''Plurality of Worlds," renders the present 
system of astronomy agreeably familiar, as his "History of the Royal 
Academy" embellishes and explains the abstruse parts of mathematics 
.and natural philosophy. Shaw, 



EOOK I.] PURSUIT OF FANCIFUL SPECULATIONS. 45 

used this kind of style profusely, but Tacitus and Pliny with 
greater moderation. It has also begun to render itself 
acceptable in our time. But to say the truth, its admirers 
are only the men of a middle genius, who think it adds a 
dignity to learning; whilst those of solid judgment justly 
reject it as a certain disease of learning, since it is no more 
than a jingle, or peculiar quaint affectation of words. 11 And 
so much for the first disease of learning. 

The second disease is worse in its nature than the former ; 
for as the dignity of matter exceeds the beauty of words, so 
vanity in matter is worse than vanity in words ; whence the 
precept of St. Paul is at all times seasonable : " Avoid 
profane and vain babblings, and oppositions of science falsely 
so called." 1 He assigns two marks of suspected and falsified 
science : the one, novelty and strangeness of terms ; the 
other, strictness of positions ; which necessarily induces 
oppositions, and thence questions and altercations. And 
indeed, as many solid substances putrefy, and turn into 
worms, so does sound knowledge often putrefy into a number 
of subtle, idle, and vermicular questions, that have a certain 
quickness of life, and spirit, but no strength of matter, or 
excellence of quality. Tins kind of degenerate learning 
chiefly reigned among the schoolmen ; who, having subtle 
and strong capacities, abundance of leisure, and but small 
variety of reading, their minds being shut up in a few 
authors, as their bodies were in the cells of their monasteries, 
and thus kept ignorant both of the history of nature and 
times ; they, with infinite agitation of wit, spun out of a 
small quantity of matter, those laborious webs of learning 
which are extant in their books. For the human mind, if it 
acts upon matter, and contemplates the nature of things, and 
the works of God, operates according to the stuff, and is 
limited thereby ; but if it works upon itself, as the spider 
does, then it has no end ; but produces cobwebs of learning, 
admirable indeed for the fineness of the thread, but of no 
substance or profit. k 

h Since the establishment of the French Academy, a studied plainness 
and simplicity of style begins to prevail in that nation. 

* 1 Tim. vi. 20. 

k For the literary history of the schoolmen, see Morhof's "Polyhist." 
torn. ii. lib. i. cap. 14; and Camden's "Remains." 



46 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK I» 

This unprofitable snbtilty is of two kinds, and ajDpears 
either in the subject, when that is fruitless speculation or 
controversy, or in the manner of treating it, which amongst 
them was this : Upon every particular position they framed 
objections, and to those objections solutions; which solutions 
were generally not confutations, but distinctions ; whereas 
the strength of all sciences is like the strength of a fagot 
bound. For the harmony of science, when each part 
supports the other, is the true and short confutation of all 
the smaller objections j on the contrary, to take out every 
axiom, as the sticks of the fagot, one by one, you may 
quarrel with them, and bend them, and break them at 
pleasure : whence, as it was said of Seneca, that he 
" weakened the weight of things by trivial expression," 1 
we may truly say of the schoolmen, " That they broke the 
solidity of the sciences by the minuteness of their questions." 
For, were it not better to set up one large light in a noble 
room, that to go about with a small one, to illuminate every 
corner thereof % Yet such is the method of schoolmen, that 
rests not so much upon the evidence of truth from arguments, 
authorities, and examples, as upon particular confutations 
and solutions of every scruple and objection ; which breeds 
one question, as fast as it solves another ; just as in the above 
example, when the light is carried into one corner, it darkens 
the rest. Whence the fable of Scylla seems a lively image 
of this kind of philosophy, who was transformed into a 
beautiful virgin upwards, whilst barking monsters surrounded 
her below, — 

" Candida succinctam latrantibus inguina monstris." 

Virg. Eel. vi. 75. 

So the generalities of the schoolmen are for a while fair and 
proportionable ; but to descend into their distinctions and 
decisions, they end in monstrous altercations and barking 
questions. Whence this kind of knowledge must necessarily 
fall under popular contempt ; for the people are ever apt to 
contemn truth, upon account of the controversies raised 
about it ; and so think those all in the wrong way., who 
never meet. And when they see. such quarrels about sub- 
tilties and matters of no use, they usually give into the 

1 Quinctilian, lib. x. cap. 1, § 130. 



BOOK I.] DISREGARD TO TRUTH, AND CREDULITY. 4T 

judgment of Dionysius, " That it is old men's idle talk/' 311 
But if those schoolmen, to their great thirst of truth, and. 
unwearied exercise of wit, had joined variety of reading and 
contemplation, they would have proved excellent lights to 
the great advancement of all kinds of arts and sciences. 
And thus much for the second disease of learning. 

The third disease, which regards deceit or falsehood, is the 
foulest ; as destroying the essential form of knowledge, 
which is nothing but a representation of truth ; for the 
truth of existence and the truth of knowledge are the same 
thing, or differ no more than the direct and reflected ray, 
This vice, therefore, branches into two ; viz., delight in 
deceiving and aptness to be deceived ; imposture and credu- 
lity, which, though apparently different, the one seeming to 
proceed from cunning, and the other from simplicity, yet 
they generally concur. For, as in the verse, 

" Percontatorem fugito ; nam garrulus idem est," 

Hor. lib. i. epis. xviii. v. 69. 

an inquisitive man is a prattler j so a credulous man is a 
deceiver ; for he who so easily believes rumours, will as 
easily increase them. Tacitus has wisely expressed this law 
of our nature in these words, " Fingunt sinml creduntque." n 
This easiness of belief, and admitting things upon weak 
authority, is of two kinds, according to the subject * being 
either a belief of history and matter of fact, or else matter 
of art and opinion. We see the inconvenience of the former 
in ecclesiastical history, which has too easily received and 
registered relations of miracles wrought by martyrs, hermits, 
monks, and their relics, shrines, chapels, and images. So 
in natural history, there has not been much judgment 
employed, as appears from the writings of Pliny, Carban, 
Albertus, and many of the Arabians; which are full of 
fabulous matters : many of them not only untried, but 
notoriously false, to the great discredit of natural philosophy 
with grave and sober minds. But the produce and integrity 
of Aristotle is here worthy our observation, who, having 
compiled an exact history of animals, dashed it very sparingly 
with fable or fiction, throwing all strange reports which he 

m Diog, Laert. iii. 18, Life of Plato. n Tacit. Hist. b. i. 51. 



48 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK I. 

thought worth recording in a book by themselves, thus 
wisely intimating, that matter of truth which is the basis of 
solid experience, philosophy, and the sciences, should not 
be mixed with matter of doubtful credit ; and yet that 
curiosities or prodigies, though seemingly incredible, are not 
to be suppressed or denied the registering. 

Credulity in arts and opinions, is likewise of two kinds ; 
viz., when men give too much belief to arts themselves, or 
to certain authors in any art. The sciences that sway the 
imagination more than the reason, are principally three ; viz., 
astrology, natural magic, and alchemy ; the ends or preten- 
sions whereof are however noble. For astrology pretends 
to discover the influence of the superior upon the inferior 
bodies ; natural magic pretends to reduce natural philosophy 
from speculation to works ; and chemistry pretends to 
separate the dissimilar parts, incorporated in natural mix- 
tures, and to cleanse such bodies as are impure, throw out 
the heterogeneous parts, and perfect such as are immature. 
But the means supposed to produce these effects are, both in 
theory and practice, full of error and vanity, and besides, are 
seldom delivered with candour, but generally concealed by 
artifice and enigmatical expressions, referring to tradition, 
and using other devices to cloak imposture. Yet alchemy 
may be compared to the man who told his sons, he had left 
them gold buried somewhere in his vineyard ; where they, 
by digging, found no gold, but by turning up the mould about 
the roots of the vines, procured a plentiful vintage. So the 
search and endeavours to make gold have brought many 
useful inventions and instructive experiments to light.P 

Credulity in respect of certain authors, and making them 

° QaviiacTia 'AKova^iara. 

p As among the Egyptians, the Chinese, and the Arabians, if their 
histories are to be credited. In later times, they make copper 
out of iron, at Newsohl, in Germany. See Agricola " De Be Metal - 
lica," Morhof, Fr. Hoffman, &c. Whilst Brand of Hamburgh was 
working upon urine, in order to find the philosopher's stone, he 
•stumbled upon that called Kunckel's burning phosphorus, in the year 
1669. See Mem. de l'Acad. Koyal. des Sciences, an 1692. And M. 
Homberg operating upon human excrement, lor an oil to convert quick- 
silver into silver, accidentally produced what we now call the black 
phosphorus, a powder which readily takes fire and burns like a coal in 
the open air. See Mem. de l'Acad. an 1711. To give all the instances 
of this kind were almost endless. Ed. 



BOOK I.] UNREASONABLE DEFERENCE TO GREAT NAME& 49 

dictators instead of consuls, is a principal cause that the 
sciences are no farther advanced. For hence, though in 
mechanical arts, the first inventor falls short, time adds per- 
fection ; whilst in the sciences, the first author goes farthest, 
and time only abates or corrupts. Thus artillery, sailing, 
and printing, were grossly managed at the first, but received 
improvement by time ; whilst the philosophy and the sciences 
of Aristotle, Plato, Democritus, Hippocrates, Euclid, and 
Archimedes, flourished most in the original authors, and 
degenerated with time. The reason is, that in the mechanic 
arts, the capacities and industry of many are collected 
together ; whereas in sciences, the capacities and industry 
of many have been spent upon the invention of some 
one man, who has commonly been thereby rather obscured 
than illustrated. For as water ascends no higher than the 
level of the first spring, so knowledge derived from Aristotle 
will at most rise no higher again than the knowledge of 
Aristotle. And therefore, though a scholar must have faith 
in his master, yet a man well instructed must judge for him- 
self ; for learners owe to their masters only a temporary 
belief, and a suspension of their own judgment till they are 
fully instructed, and not an absolute resignation or perpetual 
captivity. Let great authors, therefore, have their due, but 
so as not to defraud time, which is the author of authors, and 
the parent of truth. 

Besides the three diseases of learning above treated, there 
are some other peccant humours, which, falling under popular 
observation and reprehension, require to be particularly 
mentioned. The first is the affecting of two extremes ; 
.antiquity and novelty : wherein the children of time seem 
to imitate their father ; for as he devours his children, so 
they endeavour to devour each other ; whilst antiquity envies 
new improvements, and novelty is not content to add with- 
out defacing. The advice of the prophet is just in this case : 
" Stand upon the old ways, and see which is the good way, 
and walk therein." ^ For antiquity deserves that men should 
stand awhile upon it, to view around which is the best way; 
but when the discovery is well made, they should stand no 
longer, but proceed with cheerfulness. And to speak the 

i Jeremiah vi. 16. 
2 E 



50 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK I, 

truth antiquity, as we call it, is tlie young state of the 
world ; for those times are ancient when the world is ancient ; 
and not those we vulgarly account ancient by computing 
backwards ; so that the present time is the real antiquity. 

Another error, proceeding from the former, is, a distrust 
that anything should be discovered in later times that wa- 
not hit upon before ; as if Lucian's objection against the 
gods lay also against time. He pleasantly asks why the gods 
begot so many children in the first ages, but none in his 
days ; and whether they were grown too old for generation, 
or were restrained by the Papian law, which prohibited old 
men from marrying P For thus we seem apprehensive that 
time is worn out, and become unfit for generation. And 
here we have a remarkable instance of the levity and incon- 
stancy of man's humour ; which, before a thing is effected, 
thinks it impossible, and as soon as it is done, wonders it was 
not done before. So the expedition of Alexander into Asia 
was at first imagined a vast and impracticable enterprise, yet 
Livy afterwards makes so light of it as to say, " It was but 
bravely venturing to despise vain opinions." 13 And the case 
was the same in Columbus's discovery of the West Indies. 
But this happens much more frequently in intellectual 
matters, as we see. in most of the propositions of Euclid, 
which, till demonstrated, seem strange, but when demon- 
strated, the mind receives them by a kind of affinity, as if 
we had known them before. 

Another error of the same nature is an imagination that 
of all ancient opinions or sects, the best has ever prevailed, 
and suppressed the rest ; so that if a man begins a new 
search, he must happen upon somewhat formerly rejected : 
and by rejection, brought into oblivion ; as if the multitude, 
or the wiser sort to please the multitude, would not often 
give way to what is light and popular, rather than maintain 
what is substantial and deep. 

Another different error is, the over-early and peremptory 
reduction of knowledge into arts and methods, from which 
time the sciences are seldom improved ; for as young men 
rarely grow in stature after their shape and limbs are fully 

r Senec. imput. ap. Lact. Instit. i. 26, 13. 

s "Nihil aliud quam bene ausus est, vana contenmere." — Livy* 
b. 10, c. 17. 



BOOK I.] HUMAN INTELLECT OVERRATED. 51 

formed, so knowledge, whilst it lies in aphorisms and. obser- 
vations, remains in a growing state ; but when once fashioned 
into methods, though it may be farther polished, illustrated, 
and fitted for use, it no longer increases in bulk and 
substance. 

Another error is, that after the distribution of particular 
arts and sciences, men generally abandon the study of nature, 
or universal philosophy, which stops all farther progress. 
For as no perfect view of a country can be taken upon a 
flat, so it is impossible to discover the remote and deep parts 
of any science by standing upon the level of the same 
science, or without ascending to a higher. 

Another error proceeds from too great a reverence, and a 
kind of adoration paid to the human understanding; whence 
men have withdrawn themselves from the contemplation of 
nature and experience, and sported with their own reason 
and the fictions of fancy. These intellect ualists, though 
commonly taken for the most sublime and divine philosophers, 
are censured by Heraclitus, when he says, " Men seek for 
truth in their own little worlds, and not in the great world 
without them : wt and as they disdain to spell, they can never 
come to read in the volume of God's works ; but on the con- 
trary, by continual thought and agitation of wit, they compel 
their own genius to divine and deliver oracles, whereby they 
are deservedly deluded. 

Another error is, that men often infect their speculations 
and doctrines with some particular opinions they happen to 
be fond of, or the particular sciences whereto they have most 
applied, and thence give all other things a tincture that is 
utterly foreign to them. Thus Plato mixed philosophy with 
theology ; u Aristotle with logic ; Proclus with mathematics; 

1 Text Empir. against St. Math. vii. 133. 

u If it is true that God is the great spring of motion in the universe, 
as the theory of moving forces is a part of mechanics and mechanics a 
department of physics, we cannot see how theology can be entirely 
divorced from natural philosophy. Physicists are too apt to consider 
the universe as eternally existing, without contemplating it in its finite 
aspect as a series of existences to be produced, and controlled by the- 
force of laws externally impressed upon them. Hence their theory of 
moving forces is incomplete, as they do not take the prime mover into 
account, or supply us, in case of denying him, with the equivalent of 
his action. Ed, 

e2 



52 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK I. 

as these arts were a kind of elder and favourite children with 
them. So the alchemists have made a philosophy from a few 
experiments of the furnace, and Gilbert another out of the 
loadstone : in like manner, Cicero, when reviewing the 
opinions on the nature of the soul, coming to that of a 
musician, who held the soul was hut an harmony, he plea- 
santly said, "This man has not gone out of his art."* But 
of such authors Aristotle says well : " Those who take in but 
a few considerations easily decide." y 

Another error is, an impatience of doubting and a blind 
hurry of asserting without a mature suspension of judgment. 
For the two ways of contemplation are like the two ways of 
action so frequently mentioned by the ancients ; the one 
plain and easy at first, but in the end impassable ; the other 
rough and fatiguing in the entrance, but soon after fair and 
even : so in contemplation, if we begin with certainties, we 
shall end in doubts ; but if we begin with doubts, and are 
patient in them, we shall end in certainties. 

Another error lies in the manner of delivering knowledge, 
which is generally magisterial and peremptory, not ingenuous 
and open, but suited to gain belief without examination. 
And in compendious treatises for practice, this form should 
not be disallowed ; but in the true delivering of knowledge, 
both extremes are to be avoided ; viz., that of Velleius the 
Epicurean, who feared nothing so much as the non-appear- 
ance of doubting;" 2 and that of Socrates and the Academics, 
who ironically doubted of all things : but the true way is to 
propose things candidly, with more or less asseveration, as 
they stand in a man's own judgment. 

There are other errors in the scope that men propose to 
themselves : for whereas the more diligent professors of any 
science ought chiefly to endeavour the making some additions 
or improvements therein, they aspire only to certain second 
prizes ; as to be a profound commentator, a sharp disputant, 
a methodical compiler, or abridger, whence the returns 
or revenues of knowledge are sometimes increased, but not 
the inheritance and stock. 

But the greatest error of all is, mistaking the ultimate end 

s "Hie ab arte sua non recessit." — Tuscul. Qiuest. i. c. 10. 
y Arist. De Gener. et Corrup. lib. 1. 
z Cicero, De Natura Deorum, i. c. 8. 






BOOK I.] THE TRUE EXD OF LEARNING MISTAKEN. 53 

of knowledge ; for some men covet knowledge out of a 
natural curiosity and inquisitive temper; some to entertain 
the mind with variety and delight ; some for ornament and 
reputation ; some for victory and contention ; many for lucre 
and a livelihood ; and but few for employing the Divine gift 
of reason to the use and benefit of mankind. Thus some 
appear to seek in knowledge a couch for a searching spirit ; 
others, a walk for a wandering mind ; others, a tower of 
state i others, a fort, or commanding ground ; 'and others, a 
shop for profit or sale, instead of a storehouse for the glory 
of the Creator and the endowment of human life. But that 
which must dignify and exalt knowledge is the more in- 
timate and strict conjunction of contemplation and action ; 
a conjunction like that of Saturn, the planet of rest and 
contemplation ; and Jupiter, the planet of civil society and 
action. But here, by use and action, we do not mean the 
applying of knowledge to lucre, for that diverts the advance- 
ment of knowledge, as the golden ball thrown before Atalanta, 
wJiich, while she stoops to take up, the race is hindered. 

"Declinat cursus, aurumque volubile tollit." — Ovid, Metam. x. G67. 

Nor do we mean, as was said of Socrates, to call philosophy 
down from heaven to converse upon earth : a that is, to leave 
natural philosophy behind, and apply knowledge only to 
morality and policy : but as both heaven and earth con- 
tribute to the use and benefit of man, so the end ought to be, 
from both philosophies, to separate and reject vain and empty 
speculations, and preserve and increase all that is solid and 
fruitful. 

We have now laid open by a kind of dissection the chief 
of those peccant humours which have not only retarded 
the advancement of learning, but tended to its traduce- 
ment.^ If we have cut too deeply, it must be rem en- 

a Cicero, Tuscul. Qusest. v. c. 4. 

b To this catalogue of errors incident to learned men may be added, 
the frauds and impostures of which they are sometimes guilty, to the 
scandal of learning. Thus plagiarism, piracy, falsification, interpola- 
tion, castration, the publishing of spurious books, and the stealing of 
manuscripts out of libraries, have been frequent, especially among eccle- 
siastical writers, and the Fratres Falsarii. For instances of this kind, 
see Struvius " De Doctis Impostoribus," Morhof in " Polyhist. de 
Pseudonymis, Anonyrais, &c." Le Clerc's " Ars Critica," Cave's " His- 



54: ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK I. 

berecl, " Fidelia vulnera amantis, dolosa osciila malignantis. c 
However, we will gain credit for our commendations, as 
we have been severe in our censures. It is, notwithstand- 
ing, far from our purpose to enter into fulsome laudations of 
learning, or to make a hymn to the muses, though we are 
of opinion that it is long since their rites were celebrated ; 
but our intent is to balance the dignity of knowledge in the 
scale with other things, and to estimate their true values 
according tcruniversal testimony. 

Next, therefore, let us seek the dignity of knowledge in 
its original ; that is, in the attributes and acts of God, so far 
as they are revealed to man, and may' be observed with sobriety. 
But here we are not to seek it by the name of learning ; for 
all learning is knowledge acquired, but all knowledge in God 
is original : we must, therefore, look for it under the name 
of wisdom or sapience, as the Scriptures call it. 

In the work of creation we see a double emanation of 
virtue from God ; the one relating more properly to power, 
the other to wisdom ; the one expressed in making the 
matter, and the other in disposing the form. This being 
supposed, we may observe that, for anything mentioned in 
the history of the creation, the confused mass of the heavens 
and earth was made in a moment ; whereas the order and 
disposition of it was the work of six days : such a mark of 
difference seems put betwixt the works of power and the 
works of wisdom ; whence, it is not written that God said, 
" Let there be heaven and earth," as it is of the subsequent 
works; but actually, that "God made heaven and earth;" 
the one carrying the style of a manufacture, the other that 
of a law, decree, or counsel. 

To proceed from God to spirits. We find, as far as credit 
may be given to the celestial hierarchy of the supposed 
Dionysius the Areopagite, the first place is given to the 
angels of love, termed Seraphim ; the second, to the angels 
of light, called Cherubim ; and the third and following 
places to thrones, principalities, and the rest, which are all 
angels of power and ministry ; so that the angels of know- 

toria Literaria Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum/' Father Simon, and 
Mabillon. Ed. 
c Prov. xxvii. 6. 



BOOK I.] SCRIPTURES SUPPORT DIGNITY OF KNOWLEDGE. 55 

ledge and illumination are placed before the angels of office 
and domination^ 

To descend from spiritual and intellectual, to sensible and 
material forms ; we read the first created form w T as light, c 
which, in nature and corporeal things, hath a relation and cor- 
respondence to knowledge in spirits, and things incorporeal ; 
so, in the distribution of days, we find the clay wherein God 
rested and completed his works, was blessed above all the 
days wherein he wrought them. f 

After the creation was finished, it is said that man was 
placed in the garden to work therein, which work could only 
be work of contemplation ; that is, the end of his work was 
but for exercise and delight, and not for necessity : for 
there being then no reluctance of the creature, nor sweat 
of the brow, man's employment was consequently matter 
of pleasure, not labour. Again, the first acts which man 
performed in Paradise consisted of the two summary parts 
of knowledge, a view of the creature, and imposition of 
names.? 

In the first event after the fall, we find an image of the 
two states, the contemplative and the active, figured out in 
the persons of Abel and Cain, by the two simplest and most 
primitive trades, that of the shepherd and that of the 
husbandman ; h where again, the favour of God went to the 
shepherd, and not to the tiller of the ground. 

So in the age before the flood, the sacred records mention 
the name of the inventors of music and workers in metal. 1 
In the age after the flood, the first great judgment of God 
upon the ambition of man was the confusion of tongues, k 
whereby the open^ trade and intercourse of learning and 
knowledge was chiefly obstructed. 

It is said of Moses, " That he was learned in all the wis- 
dom of the Egyptians," 1 which nation was one of the most 
ancient schools of the world; for Plato brings in the Egyp- 
tian priest saying to Solon, " You Grecians are ever children, 
having no knowledge of antiquity, nor antiquity of know- 
ledge." 111 In the ceremonial laws of Moses we find, that 

d See Dionys. Hierarch. 7, S, 9. e Gen. i. 3. 

f Gen. ii. 3. s Gen. H. 19. h Gsn. iv. 2. * Gen. iv. 21, 22. 

k Gen. xi. i Acts vii. 22. ■ Plat. Tim. iii. 22. 



56 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK J. 

besides the prefiguration of Christ, the mark of the people of 
God to distinguish them from the Gentiles, the exercise of 
obedience, and other divine institutions, the most learned of 
the rabbis have observed a natural and some of them a 
moral sense in many of the rites and ceremonies. Thus in 
the law of the leprosy, where it is said, " If the whiteness 
have overspread the flesh, the patient may pass abroad for 
clean; but if there be any whole flesh- remaining, he is to 
be shut up for unclean," 11 — one of them notes a principle of 
nature, viz., that putrefaction is more contagious before 
maturity than after. Another hereupon observes a position 
of moral philosophy, that men abandoned to vice do not 
corrupt the manners of others, so much as those who are but 
half wicked. And in many other places of the Jewish law, 
besides the theological sense, there are couched many philo- 
sophical matters. The book of Job likewise will be found, 
if examined with care, pregnant with the secrets of natural 
philosophy. For example, when it says, " Qui extendit 
Aquilonem super vacuum, et appendit terrain super nihilum," 
the suspension of the earth and the convexity of the heavens 
are manifestly alluded to. Again, " Spiritus ejus ornavit 
ca?los, et obstetricante maim ejus ecluctus est coluber tortu- 
osus;"p and in another place, "Numquid conjungere valebis 
micantes stellas Pleiadas, aut gyrum Arcturi poteris dis- 
sipare?"^ where the immutable 1 * configuration of the fixed 
stars, ever preserving the same position, is with elegance 
described. So in another place: "Qui facit Arcturum, et 
Oriona, et Hyadas, s et interiora Austri,"* where he again refers 
to the depression of the south pole in the expression of " in- 
teriora Austri," because the southern stars are not seen in 

■ Leviticus xiii. 12. ° See Job xxvi. — xxxviii. 

p Job xxvi. 7, 13. i xxxviii. 31. 

r That is, to Job, who cannot be supposed to know what telescope.! 
only have revealed, that stars change their declination with unequal 
degrees of motion. It is clear, therefore, that their distances must be 
variable, and that in the end the figures of the constellations will 
undergo mutation ; as this change, however, will not be perceptible for 
thousands of years, it hardly comes within the limit of man's idea of 
mutation, and therefore, with regard to him, may be said to have no 
existence. Ed. 

• s The Hyades nearly approach the letter V in appearance. 

1 The crown of stars which forms a kind of imperfect circle near 
Arcturus. 



BOOK I.] THE LEARNING OF THE EARLY FATHERS. 57 

our hemisphere. 11 Again, what concerns the generation of 
living creatures, he savs, " Aimon sicut lac niulsisti me, et 
sicut caseum coagulasti nie1" x and touching mineral subjects, 
" Habet argent um venarum suarum principia, et auro locus 
est, in quo conflatur ; ferrurn de terra tollitur, et lapis 
solutus calore in ?es vertitur,'T and so forward in the same 
chapter. 

Nor did the dispensation of God vary in the times after 
our Saviour, who himself first showed his power to subdue 
ignorance, by conferring with the priests and doctors of the 
law, before he showed his power to subdue nature by miracles. 
And the coming of the Holy Spirit was chiefly expressed in 
the gift of tongues, winch are but the' conveyance of know- 
ledge. 

So in the election of those instruments it pleased God to 
use for planting the faith, though at first he employed per- 
sons altogether unlearned, otherwise than by inspiration, the 
more evidently to declare his immediate working, and to 
humble all human wisdom or knowledge, yet in the next 
succession he sent out his divine truth into the world, at- 
tended with other parts of learning as with servants or hand- 
maids ; thus St. Paul, who was the only learned amongst the 
apostles, had his pen most employed in the writings of the 
New Testament. 

Again, we find that many of the ancient bishops and 
fathers of the Church were well versed in all the learning 
of the heathens, insomuch that the edict of the Emperor 
Julian prohibiting Christians the schools and exercises, was 
accounted a more pernicious engine against the faith than all 
the sanguinary persecutions of his predecessors. 2 Neither 
could Gregory the First, bishop of Rome, ever obtain the 
opinion of devotion even among the pious, for designing, 
though otherwise an excellent person, to extinguish the 
memory of heathen antiquity/ 1 But it was the Christian 

u It is not true that all the southern stars are invisible in our hemi- 
sphere. The text applies only to those whose southern decimation is 
greater than the elevation of the equator over their part of the horizon f 
or, which is the same thing, than the complement of the place's lati- 
tude. Ed. x x. 10. 7 xxviii. 1, 

1 Epist. ad Jamblic. Gibbon, vol. ii. c. 23. 

a Gibbon, vol. iv. c. 45. 



58 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK I. 

Church which, amidst the inundations of the Scythians from 
•the north-west and the Saracens from the east, preserved in 
iaer bosom the relics even of heathen learning, which had 
otherwise been utterly extinguished. And of late years the 
Jesuits, partly of themselves and partly provoked by example, 
have greatly enlivened and strengthened the state of learn- 
ing, and contributed to establish the Roman see. 

There are, therefore, two principal services, besides orna- 
ment and illustration, which philosophy and human learning 
perform to faith and religion, the one effectually exciting to 
the exaltation of God's glory, and the other affording a 
singular preservative against unbelief and error. Our Sa- 
viour says, " Ye err, not knowing the Scriptures, nor the 
power of God;"^ thus laying before us two books to study, if 
we will be secured from error; viz., the Scriptures, which 
reveal the will of God, and' the creation, which expresses his 
power; the latter whereof is a key to the former, and not 
only opens our understanding to conceive the true sense of 
the Scripture by the general notions of reason and the rules 
of speech, but chiefly opens our faith in drawing us to a due 
consideration of the omnipotence of God, which is stamped 
upon his works. And thus much for Divine testimony con- 
cerning the dignity and merits of learning. 

Next for human proofs. Deification was the highest 
honour among the heathens; that is, to obtain veneration as 
a god was the supreme respect which man could pay to man, 
especially when given, not by a formal act of state as it 
usually was to the Roman emperors, but from a voluntary, 
internal assent and acknowledgment. This honour being 
30 high, there was also constituted a middle kind, for human 
honours were inferior to honours heroical and divine. An- 
tiquity observed this difference in their distribution, that 
vhereas founders of states, lawgivers, extirpers of tyrants, 
•fathers of the people, and other eminent persons in civil 
merit, were honoured but with the titles of heroes, or demi- 
gods, such as Hercules, Theseus. Minos, Eomulus, &c. In- 
ventors, and authors of new arts or discoveries for the service 
of human life, were ever advanced amongst the gods, as in the 
case of Ceres, Bacchus, Mercury, Apollo, and others. And this 

b Matt. xxii. 29. 



BOOK I.] LEARNING IX REFUSE AJCOSG THE ANCIENTS. 59 

appears to h.w- ;7en done with great justice and judgment, 

for the men he former bems; generally confined within 

the circle of one age or nation, are but like frnitful showers, 
which serve only for a season and a small extent, whilst the 
others are like the benefits of the sun, permanent and uni- 

:! Again, the former are mixed with strife and con- 
tention, whilst the latter have the true character of the 
Divine presence, as coming in a gentle gale without noise or 
tumult. 

The merit of learning in remedying the inconveniences aris- 

:om man to man. is not much inferior to that of relieving 
human necessities. This merit was livelily described by the 
ancients in the fiction of Orpheus's theatre, where all the 

its and birds assembled, and forgetting their several ap- 
petites, stood sociablv together listening to the harp, whose 
sound no sooner ceased, or was drowned by a louder, but 
all returned to their respective natures : for thus men 
are full of savage and unreclaimed desires, which as long as 
we hearken to precepts, laws, and religion, sweetly touched 
with eloquence and persuasion, so long is society and peace 
maintained ; but if these instruments become silent, or sedi- 
tions and tumult drown their music, all things fall back to 

usion and anarchy. 
This appears more manifestly when princes or governors 

learned ; for though he might be thought partial to his 
profession who said. - States would then be happy, when 
either kings were philosophers, or philosophers kings;" yet 
so much is verified by experience, that the best times have 

pened under wise and learned princes; for though kings 
may have their errors and vices, like other men. yet if they 
are illuminated by learning, they constantly retain such 
notions of religion, policy, and morality, as may preserve 
them from destructive and irremediable errors or exce- -- - ; 
for these notions will whisper to them, even whilst counsel- 
lors and servants stand mute. Such senators likewise as are 
learned proceed upon more safe and substantial principles 
than mere men of experience. — the former view dangers afar 
off. whilst the latter discover, them not till they are at hand. 
and then trust to their wit to avoid them. This felicity of 

: Plate It Republic^ b. 5) ii. 475. 



60 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK 



times under learned princes appears eminent in the age be- 
tween the death of Domitian and the reign of Commodus y 
comprehending a succession of six princes, all of them 
learned, or singular favourers and promoters of learning. 
And this age, for temporal respects, was the happiest and 
most flourishing that ever the Roman state enjoyed ; as was 
revealed to Domitian in a dream the night before he was 
slain, when he beheld a neck and head of gold growing 
upon his shoulders ; a vision which was, iri the golden times 
succeeding this divination, fully accomplished. For his 
successor Nerva was a learned prince, a familiar friend and 
acquaintance of Apollonius, who expired reciting that line 
of Homer, — "Phoebus, with thy darts revenge our tears.'' d 
Trajan, though not learned himself, was an admirer of learn- 
ing, a munificent patron of letters, and a founder of libraries. 
Though the taste of his court was warlike, professors and 
preceptors were found there in great credit and admiration. 
Adrian was the greatest inquirer that ever lived, and an in- 
satiable explorer into everything curious and profound. Anto- 
ninus, possessing the patient and subtile mind of a scholastic, 
obtained the soubriquet of Cymini Sector, or splitter of cu- 
min-seed. 6 Of the two brothers who were raised to the rank 
of gods, Lucius Commodus was versed in a more elegant kind 
of learning, and Marcus was surnamed the philosopher. 
These princes excelled the rest in virtue and goodness as 
much as they surpassed them in learning. Nerva was a mild 
philosopher, and who, if he had done nothing else than give 
Trajan to the world, would have sufficiently distinguished 
himself. Trajan was most famous and renowned above- 
all the emperors for the arts both of peace and war. He 
enlarged the bounds of empire, marked out its limits and its 
power. He was, in addition, so great a builder, that Con- 
stantine used to call him Parietaria, or Wallflower/ his name 
being carved upon so many walls. Adrian strove with time- 
for the palm of duration, and repaired its decays and ruins 
wherever the touch of its scythe had appeared. Antoninus 
was pious in name and nature. His nature and innate good- 
ness gained him the reverence and affection of all classes, 

c Suetonius, Life of Domitian, c. 23. d Iliad, i. 42. 

c " Unum de istis puto qui cuminum secant." — Julian. Cres. 
f (3oravT] toIxov.] He called Adrian spyaXtlop Zioypatyixoi'. 



BOOK I.] LEARNING PROMOTES VALOUR. 61 

ages, and conditions ; and his reign, like his life, was long and 
unruffled by storms. Lucius Commodus, though not so per- 
fect as his brother, succeeded many of the emperors in virtue. 
Marcus, formed by nature to be the model of every excel- 
lence, was so faultless, that Silenus, when he took his seat 
at the banquet of the gods, found nothing to carp at in him 
but his patience in humouring his wife.s Thus, in the suc- 
cession of these six princes, we may witness the happy 
fruits of learning in sovereignty painted in the great table 
of the world. 

]STor has learning a less influence on military genius than 
on merit employed in the state, as may be observed in the 
lives of Alexander the Great and Julius Caesar, a few ex- 
amples of which it will not be impertinent here to notice. 

Alexander was bred under Aristotle, 11 certainly a great 
philosopher, who dedicated several of his treatises to him. 
He was accompanied by Calisthenes and several other 
learned persons both in his travels and conquests. The 
value this great monarch set upon learning appears in the 
envy he expressed of Achilles's great fortune in having so 
good a trumpet of his actions and prowess as Homer's verses ; 
in the judgment he gave concerning what object was most 
worthy to be inclosed in the cabinet of Darius found among 
his spoils, which decided the question in favour of Homer's 
works ; in his reprehensory letter to Aristotle, when chiding 
his master for laying bare the mysteries of philosophy, he 
gave him to understand that himself esteemed it more glo- 
rious to excel others in learning and knowledge than in 
power and empire. As to his own erudition, evidences of 
its perfection shine forth in all his speeches and writing, of 
which, though only small fragments have come down to us, 
yet even these are richly impressed with the footsteps of the 
moral sciences. For example, take his words to Diogenes, 
and judge if they do not inclose the very kernel of one of 
the greatest questions in moral philosophy, viz., whether the 
enjoyment or the contempt of earthly things leads to the 
greatest happiness ; for upon seeing Diogenes contented with 
so little, he turned round to his courtiers, who were deriding 
the cynic's condition, and said, " If I were not Alexander, I 

£ Julian. Ccesarcs. 

h For these anecdotes see Plutarch's life of Alex. 



62 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING, [BOOK I. 

would be Diogenes. 5 ' (But Seneca, in his comparison, gives. 
the preference to Diogenes, saying that Diogenes had more 
things to refuse than it was in the disposition of Alexander 
to confer.) 1 For his skill in natural science, observe his cus- 
tomary saying, that he felt his mortality chiefly in two 
things — sleep and lust. k This expression, pointing as it does 
to the indigence and redundance of nature manifested by 
these two harbingers of death, savours more of an Aristotle 
and a Democritus than of an Alexander. In poesy, regard 
him rallying in his wounds one of his flatterers, who was 
wont to ascribe unto him Divine honour. " Look," said he, 
"this is the blood of a man — not such liquor as Homer 
speaks of, which ran from Venus's hand when it was pierced 
by Diomedes." 1 In logic, observe, in addition to his power 
of detecting fallacies and confuting or retorting arguments, 
his rebuke to Cassander, who ventured to confute the ar- 
raigners of Antipater, his father, Alexander having inciden- 
tally asked, " Do you think these men would come so far to 
complain, except they had just cause?" Cassander replied, 
"That was the very thing which had given them courage, since 
they hoped that the length of the journey would entirely clear 
them of calumnious motives." " See," said Alexander, " the 
subtilty of Aristotle, taking the matter pro and con." Ne- 
vertheless he did not shrink to turn the same art to his own 
advantage which he reprehended in others; for, bearing a 
secret grudge to Calisthenes, upon that rhetorician having 
drawn down great applause by delivering, as was usual at 
banquets, a spontaneous discourse in praise of the Macedonian 
nation, Alexander remarked, that it was easy to be eloquent 
upon a good topic, and requested him to change his note, and 
let the company hear what he could say against them. Calis- 
thenes obeyed the request with such sharpness and vivacity, 
that Alexander interrupted him, saying, " That a perverted 
mind, as well as a choice topic, would breed eloquence." As 
regards rhetoric, consider his rebuke of Antipater, an im- 
perious and tyrannous governor, when one of Antipater's 
friends ventured to extol his moderation to Alexander, say- 
ing that he had not fallen into the Persian pride of wearing 
the purple, but still retained the Macedonian habit. " But 

* Seneca de Benef. v. 5. k Vid. Seneca, Ep. Mor. vi. 7.\ 

1 Iliad, iv. 340. 



BOOK I.] ALEXANDER'S LEARNING SHOWN IN HIS SAYINGS. 63 

Antipater," replied Alexander, " is all purple within.*' 111 Con- 
sider also that other excellent metaphor which he used to 
Parmenio, when that general showed him, from the plains of 
Arbella, the innumerable multitude of his enemies, which, 
viewed as they lay encamped in the night, represented a host 
of stars ; and thereupon advised Alexander to assail them at 
once. The hero rejected the proposition, saying, " I will not 
steal a victory." As concerns policy, weigh that grave and 
wise distinction, which all ages have accepted, which he 
made between his two chief friends, Hephsestion and Craterus, 
saying, " That the one loved Alexander, and the other the 
king." Also observe how he rebuked the error ordinary 
with counsellors of princes, which leads them to give advice 
according to the necessity of their own interest and fortune, 
and not of their master's. When Darius had made certain 
proposals to Alexander, Parmenio said, "I would accept these 
conditions if I were Alexander." Alexander replied, " So 
surely would I were I Parmenio." Lastly, consider his reply 
to his friends, who asked him what he would reserve for 
himself, since he lavished so many valuable gifts upon others. 
u Hope," said Alexander, who well knew that, all accounts 
being cleared — "hope is the true inheritance of all that resolve 
upon great enterprises." This was Julius Caesar's portion 
when he went into Gaul, all his estate being exhausted by 
profuse largess. And it was also the portion of that noble 
prince, howsoever transported with ambition, Henry, duke 
of Guise ; for he was pronounced the greatest usurer in all 
France, because all his wealth was in names, and he had 
turned his whole estate into obligations. But perhaps the 
admiration of this prince in the light, not of a great king, 
but as Aristotle's scholar, has carried me too far. 

As regards Julius Caesar, his learning is not only evinced 
in his education, company, and speeches, but in a greater 
degree shines forth in such of his works as have descended to 
us. In the Commentary, that excellent history which he has 
left us, of his own wars, succeeding ages have admired the 
solidity of the matter, the vivid passages and the lively 
images of actions and persons, expressed in the greatest 
propriety of diction and perspicuity of narration. That this 

m 6\oTr6p(pvpoe. Apop "Reg. et Imp. 



€4 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK I. 

excellence of style was not the effect of undisciplined talent, 
but also of learning and precept, is evident from that work 
of his, entitled De Analogia, 11 in which he propounds the 
principles of grammatical philosophy, and endeavours to 
fashion mere conventional forms to congruity of expression, 
taking, as it were, the picture of words from the life of reason. 
We also perceive another monument of his genius and learn- 
ing in the reformation of the Calendar, in accomplishing 
which he is reported to have said that he esteemed it as 
great a glory to himself to observe and know the law of the 
heavens, as to give laws to men upon earth. In his Anti- 
Cato, he contended as much for the palm of wit as he strove 
in his battles for victory, and did not shrink from confronting 
the greatest champion of the pen in those times, Cicero the 
orator. Again, in his book of apophthegms, he deemed it 
more honourable to note the wise sayings of others, than to 
record every word of his own as an oracle or apophthegm, as 
many vain princes are by flattery urged to do.i } And yet, 
should I enumerate any of them, as I did before those of 
Alexander, we should find them to be such as Solomon points 
to in the saying, " Verba sapientum tanquam aculei, et tanquam 
clavi in altum defixi."^ Of these, however, I shall only relate 
three, not so remarkable for elegance as for vigour and 
efficacy. He who could appease a mutiny in his army by a 
word, must certainly be regarded as a master of language. 
This Csesar performed under the following circumstances. 
The generals always addressed the army as milites ; the 
magistrates, on the other hand, in their charges to the 
people used the word Quirites. Now the soldiers being in 
tumult, and feigneclly praying to be disbanded, with a view 
to draw Caesar to other conditions, the latter resolved not to 
succumb, and after a short pause, began his speech with 
" Ego, Quirites," 1 " which implied they were at once cashiered : 
upon which, the soldiers were so astonished and confused 
that they relinquished their demands, and begged to be 
addressed by the old appellation of milites. The second 
saying thus transpired. Caesar extremely affected the name 

'* Vid. Cic. Brutus, 72. 

° Vid. Cic. ad Att. xii. 40, 41 ; xiii. 50 ; and Top. xxv. 

p Cic. ad Fam. ix. 16. ''■ Eccl. xii. 11. 

r Suet. Life Jul. Cses. c. 70. 



EOOK I.] THE WISDOM OF JULIUS CLESAE. 65 

of king, and some were set on to salute Mm with that title 
as he passed by. Caesar, however, finding the cry weak and 
poor, put it off thus in a kind of jest, as if they had mis- 
taken his surname : " Non rex sum, sed Caesar," s I am not 
king, but Caesar,* an expression, the pregnancy of which it 
is difficult to exhaust \ for first, it was a refusal of the name, 
though not serious ; again, it displayed infinite 'confidence 
and magnanimity in presuming Caesar to be the greater 
title, a presumption which posterity has fully confirmed. 
But chiefly the expression is to be admired as betraying a 
great incentive to his designs, as if the state strove with him 
for a mere name, with which even mean families were in- 
vested. For Rex was a surname with the Romans, as well 
as King is with us. The last saying I shall mention, refers 
to Metellus : as soon as Caesar had seized Rome, he made 
straightway to the aerarium to seize the money of the state ; 
but Metellus being tribune, forestalled his purpose, and denied 
him entrance : whereupon Caesar threatened, if he did not 
desist, to lay him dead on the spot. But presently checking 
himself, added, " Adolescens, durius est mihi hoc dicere quam 
facere ;" Young man, it is harder for me to say this than to 
do it. u A sentence compounded of the greatest terror and 
clemency that could proceed out of the mouth of man. But 
to conclude with Caesar. It is evident he was quite aware 
of his proficiency in this respect, from his scoffing at the idea 
of the strange resolution of Sylla, which some one expressed 
about his resignation of the dictatorship : "Sylla," said Caesar, 
"was unlettered, and therefore knew not how to dictate." x 

And here we should cease descanting on the concurrence 
of military virtue with learning, as no example could come 
with any grace after Alexander and Caesar, were it not for 
an extraordinary case touching Xenophon, which raised that 
philosopher from the depths of scorn to the highest pinnacle 
of admiration. In his youth, without either command or 
experience, that philosopher followed the expedition of 

s Suet. Life Jul. Cses. 79. 

1 The point of this expression arises from the absence of the article in 
the Latin tongue, which made rex, a king, exactly convertible with the 
title of those families who bore Eex for their surname. With us, also, 
there are many individuals who bear the name of King, and among the 
French the name Eoi is not uncommon. Ed. 

u Plutarch ; cf. Cic. ad Att. x. 8. x Suet. Life, lxxvii. 

2 p 



66 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK I. 

Cyrus the younger against Artaxerxes, as a volunteer, to 
enjoy the love and conversation of his friend Proxenus.y 
Cyrus being slain on the field, Falinus came to the remnant 
of his army with a message from the king, who, presuming 
on the fewness of their number, and the perilous nature of 
their position in the midst of foreign enemies, cut off from 
their country by many navigable rivers, and many hundred 
miles, had dared to command them to surrender their army, 
and submit entirely to his mercy. Before an answer was 
returned, the heads of the army conferred familiarly with 
Falinus, and among the rest Xenophon happened to say, 
" Why, Falinus, we have only these two things left, our arms 
and our virtue, and if we yield up our arms, how can we 
make use of our virtue V Falinus, with an ironical smile, 
replied, " If I be not deceived, young man, you are an 
Athenian ; and I believe you study philosophy, as 3^011 talk 
admirably well. But you grossly deceive yourself if you 
think your courage can withstand the king's power." z Here 
was the scorn, but the wonder followed. This young philoso- 
jDher, just emerged from the school of Socrates, after all the 
chieftains of the army had been murdered by treason, conducted 
those ten thousand foot through the heart of the king's 
territories, from Babylon to Groecia, untouched by any of the 
king's forces. The world, at this act of the young scholar, 
was stricken with astonishment, and the Greeks encouraged 
in succeeding ages to invade the kings of Persia. Jason 
the Thessalian proposed the plan, Agesilaus the Spartan 
attempted its execution, and Alexander the Macedonian 
finally achieved the conquest. 

To proceed from imperial and military, to moral and 
private virtue ; it is certain that learning softens the 
barbarity and fierceness of men's minds, according to the 
poet, 

" Scilicet ingenuas didicisse fideliter artes 
Emollit mores, nee sinifc esse feros." a 

But then it must not be superficial, for this rather works a 
contrary effect. Solid learning prevents all levity, temerity, 
and insolence, by suggesting doubts and difficulties, and 

y Xen. Anal), ii. towards the end. z Xen. Anab. ii. 1 — 12. 

a Ovid. Ep. Pont. ii. ix. 47. 



BOOK I.] LEARNING EXALTS MANKIND. 67 

inuring the mind to balance the reasons on both sides, and 
reject the first oners of things, or to accept of nothing but 
what is first examined and tried. It prevents vain admira- 
tion, which is the root of all weakness : things being admired 
either because they are new, or because they are great. As 
for novelty, no man can wade deep in learning, without dis- 
covering that he knows nothing thoroughly ; nor can we 
wonder at a puppet-show, if we look behind the curtain. 
With regard to greatness ; as Alexander, after having been 
used to great armies, and the conquests of large provinces in 
Asia, when he received accounts of battles from Greece, 
which were commonly for a pass, a fort, or some walled 
town, imagined he was but reading Homer's battle of the 
frogs and the mice ; so if a man considers the universal 
frame, the earth and its inhabitants will seem to him but as 
an ant-hill, where some carry grain, some their young, some 
go empty, and all march but upon a little heap of dust. 

Learning also conquers or mitigates the fear of death and 
adverse fortune, which is one of the greatest impediments to 
virtue and morality'; for if a man's mind be deeply seasoned 
with the consideration of the mortality and corruptibility of 
things, he will be as little affected as Epictetus, who one day 
seeing a woman weeping for her pitcher that was broken, 
and the next day a woman weeping for her son that was 
dead, said calmly, " Yesterday I saw a brittle thing broken, 
and to-day a mortal die." b And hence Yirgil excellently 
joined the knovvledge of causes and the conquering of fears 
together as concomitants : — 

" Felix qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas, 
Quique metus omnes, et inexorabile fatum, 
Subjecit pedibus ; strepitumque Acherontis avari." c 

It were tedious to enumerate the particular remedies 
which learning affords for all the diseases of the mind, some- 
times by purging the morbific humours, sometimes by open- 
ing obstructions, helping digestion, increasing the appetite, 
and sometimes healing exulcerations, &c. But to sum up 
all, it disposes the mind not to fix or settle in defects, but to 
remain ever susceptible of improvement and reformation; 

b See Epictetus, Encliir. c. 33, with the comment of Simplicius, 
c Georg?ii. 400. 



C8 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK I. 

for tlie illiterate person knows not what it is to descend into 
himself, or call himself to an account, nor the agreeableness 
of that life which is daily sensible of its own improvement ; 
he may perhaps learn to show and employ his natural talents, 
but not increase them ; he will learn to hide and colour his 
faults, but not to amend them, like an unskilful mower, who 
continues to mow on without whetting his scythe. The man 
of learning, on the contrary, always joins the correction and 
improvement of his mind with the use and employment 
thereof. To conclude, truth and goodness differ but as the 
seal and the impression ; for truth imprints goodness, whilst 
the storms of vice and perturbation break from the clouds of 
error and falsehood. 

From moral virtue we proceed to examine whether any 
power be equal to that afforded by knowledge. Dignity of 
command is always proportionable to the dignity of the com- 
manded. To have command over brutes as a herdsman is a 
mean thing; to have command over children as a school- 
master is a matter of small honour ; and to have command 
over slaves is rather a disgrace than an honour. IsTor is the 
command of a tyrant much better over a servile and dege- 
nerate people ; whence honours in free monarchies and re- 
publics have ever been more esteemed than in tyrannical 
governments, because to rule a willing people is more honour- 
able than to compel. But the command of knowledge is 
higher than the command over a free people, as being a com- 
mand over the reason, opinion, and understanding of men, 
which are the noblest faculties of the mind that govern the 
will itself; for there is no power on earth that can set up a 
throne in the spirits of men but knowledge and learning; 
whence the detestable and extreme pleasure wherewith arch- 
heretics, false prophets, and impostors are transported upon 
finding they have a dominion over the faith and consciences of 
men, a pleasure so great, that if once tasted scarce any tor- 
ture or persecution can make them forego it. But as this is 
what the Apocalypse calls the depths of Satan, d so the just 
and lawful rule over men's understanding by the evidence of 
truth and gentle persuasion, is what approaches nearest to 
the Divine sovereignty. 

With regard to honours and private fortune, the benefit 

d Rev. ii. 24. 



BOOK I.] EXCELS OTHER SOURCES OF PLEASURE. 69 

of learning is not so confined to states as not likewise to 
reach particular persons; for it is an old observation, that 
Homer has given more men their livings than Sylla, Csesar, 
or Augustus, notwithstanding their great largesses. And it 
is hard to say whether arms or learning have advanced the 
greater numbers. In point of sovereignty, if arms or descent 
have obtained the kingdom, yet learning has obtained the 
priesthood, which was ever in competition with empire. 

Again, the pleasure and delight of knowledge and learn- 
ing surpass all others ; for if the pleasures of the affections 
exceed the pleasures of the senses as much as the obtaining 
a desire or a victory exceeds a song or a treat, shall not the 
pleasures of the understanding exceed the pleasures of the 
affections 1 In all other pleasures there is a satiety, and after 
use their verdure fades ; which shows they are but deceits and 
fallacies, and that it was the novelty which pleased, not the 
quality \ whence voluptuous men frequently turn friars, and 
ambitious princes melancholy. But of knowledge there is 
no satiety, for here gratification and appetite are perpetually 
interchanging, and consequently this is good in itself, simply, 
without fallacy or accident. Nor is that a small pleasure 
and satisfaction to the mind, which Lucretius describes to 
this effect : e — "It is a scene of delight to be safe on shore 
and see a ship tossed at sea, or to be in a fortification and 
see two armies join battle upon a plain. But it is a pleasure 
incomparable for the mind to be seated by learning in the 
fortress of truth, and from thence to view the errors and 
labours of others." 

To conclude. The dignity and excellence of knowledge 
and learning is what human nature most aspires to for the 
securing of immortality, which is also endeavoured after by 
raising and ennobling families, by buildings, foundations, 
and monuments of fame, and is in effect the bent of all other 
human desires. But we see how much more durable the 
monuments of genius and learning are than those of the 
hand. The verses of Homer have continued above five and 
twenty hundred years without loss, in which time number- 
less palaces, temples, castles, and cities have been demolished 
and are fallen to ruin. It is impossible to have the true pic- 

e " Suave mari magno turbantibus sequoia ventis," &c. De Rerum 
Natura, ii. 1 — 13. 



70 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK I 

tures or statues of Cyrus, Alexander, Caesar, or the great 
personages of much later date, for the originals cannot last, 
and the copies must lose life and truth; but the images of 
men's knowledge remain in boohs, exempt from the injuries 
of time, and capable of perpetual renovation. Nor are these 
properly called images ; because they generate still, and sow 
their seed in the minds of others, so as to cause infinite 
actions and opinions in succeeding ages. If, therefore, the 
invention of a ship was thought so noble, which carries com- 
modities from place to place and consociateth the remotest 
regions in participation of their fruits, how much more are 
letters to be valued, which, like ships, pass through the vast 
ocean of time, and convey knowledge and inventions to the 
remotest ages'? Nay, some of the philosophers who were 
most immersed in the senses, and denied the immortality of 
the soul, yet allowed that whatever motions the spirit of 
man could perform without the organs of the body might 
remain after death, which are only those of the understanding, 
and not of the affections, so immortal and incorruptible a 
thing did knowledge appear to them. f And thus having en- 
deavoured to do justice to the cause of knowledge, divine 
and human, we shall leave Wisdom to be justified of her 
cfiildren.s 

f The merits of learning have been incidentally shown by many, but 
expressly by few. Among the latter may be included Johannes 
Wouwerius de Polymatb'ia, Gulielmus Budasus de Philologia, Morhof 
in "Hist. Polyhister," and Stollius in " Introduct. in Historiam Lite- 
rariam." To these may be added, Baron Spanheim, M. Perault, Sir 
William Temnle, Gibbon, and Milton. Ld. 

s Matt. xi. 19, 



BOOK II.] EOYAL PATRONAGE CONSIDERED. 71 



SECOND BOOK. 



CHAPTER I. 

General Divisions of Learning- into History, Poetry, and Philosophy, in 
relation to the Three Faculties of the Mind — Memory, Imagination, 
and Reason. The same Distribution applies to Theology. 

TO THE KING. 

It is befitting, excellent King, that those who are blessed 
vrith a numerous offspring, and who have a pledge in their 
descendants that their name will be carried down to pos- 
terity, should be keenly alive to the welfare of future times, 
in which their children are to perpetuate their power and 
empire. Queen Elizabeth, with respect to her celibacy, was 
rather a sojourner than an inhabitant of the present world, 
yet she was an ornament to her age and prosperous in many 
of her undertakings. But to your Majesty, whom God has 
blessed with so much ro}^al issue, worthy to immortalize 
your name, it particularly appertains to extend your cares 
beyond the present age, which is already illuminated with 
your wisdom, and extend your thoughts to those works 
which will interest remotest posterity. Of such designs, if 
affection do not deceive me, there is none more worthy and 
noble than the endowment of the world with sound and 
fruitful knowledge. For why should a few favourite authors 
stand up like Hercules' Columns, to bar further sailing and 
discovery, especially since we have so bright and benign a 
star in your Majesty to guide and conduct its'? 

It remains, therefore, that we consider the labours which 
princes and others have undertaken for the advancement of 
learning, and this markedly and pointedly, without digres- 
sion or amplification. Let it then be granted, that to the 
completion of any work munificent patronage is as essential 
as soundness of direction and conjunction of labours. The 
first multiplies energy, the second prevents error, and the 
third compensates for human weakness. But the principal 
of these is direction, or the pointing out and the delineation 



72 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK II. 

of the direct way to the completion of the object in view. 
For " claudus in via antevertit cursorem extra viam ; " 
and Solomon appositely says, " If the iron is not pointed, 
greater strength is to be used ;" a — so what really prevaileth 
over everything is wisdom, by which he insinuates that a 
wise selection of means leads us more directly to our object 
than a straining or accumulation of strength. Without 
wishing to derogate from the merit of those who in any way 
have advanced learning, this much I have been led to say, 
from perceiving that their works and acts have tended 
rather to the glory of their name than the progression , or 
proficiency of the sciences, — to augment the man of learning 
in the minds of philosophers, rather than reform or elevate 
the sciences themselves. 

The institutions which relate to the extension of letters 
are threefold, viz., schools and universities, books, and pro- 
fessors. For as water, whether of the dew of heaven or 
spring of the earth, would speedily lose itself in the ground 
unless collected into conduits and cisterns, so it seemeth this 
excellent liquor of knowledge, whether it descend from Di- 
vine inspiration or spring from human sense, would soon hide 
itself in oblivion, unless collected in books, traditions, aca- 
demies, and schools, it might find a permanent seat, and a 
fructifying union of strength. 

The works which concern the seats of learning are four, — ■ 
buildings, endowments, privileges, and charters, which all 
promote quietness and seclusion, freedom from cares and 
anxieties. Such stations resemble those which Virgil pre- 
scribes for beehiving : — 

" Principio sedes apibus, statioque petenda 
Quo neque sit ventis aditus." b 

The works which relate to books are two, — first, libraries, 
which are as the shrines where the bones of old saints full of 
virtue lie buried ; secondly, new editions of writers, with 
correcter impressions, more faultless versions, more useful 
commentaries, and more learned annotations. 

Finally, the works which pertain to the persons of the 
learned are, besides the general patronage which ought to 
be extended to them, twofold. The foundation of professor- 

a Ecc. x. 10. b Georg. iv. 8. 



CHAP. I.] FOUNDATIONS SHOULD NOT BE RESTRICTED. 73 

ships in sciences already extant, and in those not yet begun 
or imperfectly elaborated. 

These are, in short, the institutions on which princes and 
other illustrious men have displayed their zeal for letters. 
To me, dwelling upon each patron of letters, that notion of 
Cicero occurs, which urged him upon his return not to par- 
ticularize, but to give general thanks, — " Difficile non ali- 
quern, in gratum quenquam, prseterire." c Rather should we, 
conformably to Scripture, look forward to the course we 
have yet to run, than regard the ground already behind us. 

First, therefore, I express my surprise, that among so 
many illustrious colleges in Europe, all the foundations are 
engrossed by the professions, none being left for the free cul- 
tivation of the arts and sciences. Though men judge well 
who assert that learning should be referred to action, yet by 
reposing too confidently in this opinion, they are apt to fall 
into the error of the ancient fable, d which represented the 
members of the body at war with the stomach, because it 
alone, of all the parts of the frame, seemed to rest, and 
absorb all the nourishment. For if any man esteem philo- 
sophy and every study of a general character to be idle, he 
plainly forgets that on their proficiency the state of every 
other learning depends, and that they supply strength and 
force to its various branches. I mainly attribute the lame 
progress of knowledge hitherto to the neglect or the inci- 
dental study of the general sciences. For if you want a tree 
to produce more than its usual burden of fruit, it is not any- 
thing you can do to the branches that will effect this object, 
but the excitation of the earth about its roots and increasing 
the fertility of the soil ; nor must it be overlooked that this 
restriction of foundations and endowments to professional 
learning has not only dwarfed the growth of the sciences, 
but been prejudicial to states and governments themselves. 
For since there is no collegiate course so free as to allow those 
who are inclined to devote themselves to history, modern 
languages, civil policy, and general literature ; princes find 
a dearth of able r men to manage their affairs and efficiently 
conduct the business of the commonwealth. 

Since the founders of colleges plant, and those who endow 

c Apocryphal Orat. post Eedit. in Sen. xii. 30 ; cf. pro PI. xxx. 74. 
d Speech of Menenius Agrippa, Livy, ii. 32. 



74^ ADVANCEMENT OF LEAENING. [BOOK If. 

• tliem water, we are naturally led to speak in tins place of 
the mean salaries apportioned to public lectureships, whether 
in the sciences or the arts. For such offices being instituted 
not for an ephemeral purpose, but for the constant transmis- 
sion and extension of learning, it is of the utmost importance 
that the men selected to fill them be learned and gifted. 
But it is idle to expect that the ablest scholars will employ 
their whole energy and time in such functions unless the 
reward be answerable to that competency which may be ex- 
pected from the practice of a profession. The sciences will 
only flourish on the condition of David's military law, — that 
those who remain with the baggage shall have equal part 
with those who descend to the light, otherwise the baggage 
will be neglected. Lecturers being in like manner guardians 
of the literary stores whence those who are engaged in active 
service draw, it is but just that their labours should be 
equally recompensed, otherwise the reward of the fathers of 
the sciences not being sufficiently ample, the verse will be 
realized, — 

" Et patrum invalid! referent jejunia nati." e 

The next deficiency we shall notice is, the want of philo- 
sophical instruments, in crying up which we are aided by 
the alchemists, who call upon men to sell their books, and to 
build furnaces, rejecting Minerva and the Muses as barren 
virgins, and relying upon Yulcan. To study natural phi- 
losophy, physic, and many other sciences to advantage, 
books are not the only essentials, — other instruments are 
required ; nor has the munificence of men been altogether 
wanting in their provisions. For spheres, globes, astrolabes, 
maps, and the like, have been provided for the elucidation 
of astronomy and cosmography; and many schools of medi- 
cine are provided with gardens for the growth of simples, 
and supplied with dead bodies for dissection. But these 
concern only a few things. In general, however, there will 
be no inroad made into the secrets of nature unless experi- 
ments, be they of Vulcan or Daedalus, furnace, engine, or 
any other kind, are allowed for ; and therefore as the secre- 
taries and spies of princes and states bring in bills for intel- 
ligence, so you must allow the spies and intelligences of 
nature to bring in their bills, or else you will be ignorant of 
e Virg. Georg. iii. 123. 



CHAP. I.] DEFECTIVE TEACHING WB THE UNIVERSITIES. 75 

many things worthy to be known, And if Alexander placed 
so large a treasure at Aristotle's command, for the support 
of hunters, fowlers, fishers, and the like, in much more need 
do they stand of this beneficence who unfold the labyrinths 
of nature. 

Another defect I discover is the neglect in vice-chan- 
cellors, heads of houses, princes, inspectors, and others, of 
proper supervision or diligent inquiry into the course of 
studies, with a view to a thorough reformation of such parts 
as are ill suited to the age, or of unwise institution. For it 
is one of your Majesty's sage maxims, that as respects cus- 
toms and precedents, we must consider the times in which 
they took their rise, since much is detracted from their 
authority, if such are found feeble and ignorant. It is, there- 
fore, all the more requisite, since the university statues were 
framed in very obscure times, to institute an inquiry into 
their origin. Of errors of this nature I will give an example 
or two from such objects as are most obvious and familiar. 
The one is, that scholars are inducted too early into logic and 
rhetoric, — arts which, being the cream of all others, are fitter 
for graduates than children and novices. Kow, being the 
gravest of the sciences, these arts are composed of rules and 
directions, for setting forth and methodizing the matter of the 
rest, and, therefore, for rude and blank minds, who have not yet 
gathered that which Cicero styles sylva and swpellex* matter, 
and fecundity, to begin with those arts is as if one were to paint 
or measure the wind, and has no other effect than to degrade 
the universal wisdom of these arts into childish sophistry and 
contemptible affectation. This error has had the inevitable 
result of rendering the treatises on those sciences superficial, 
and dwarfing them to the capacities of children. Another 
error to be noticed in the present academical system is the 
separation between invention and memory, their exercises 
either being nothing but a set form of words, where no play is 
given to the understanding, or extemporaneous, in the deli- 
very of which no room is left to the memory. In practical 
life, however, a blending of the powers of judgment and 
memory is alone put into requisition, so that these practices, 
not being adapted to the life of action, rather pervert than 

f Sylva de Orat. iii. 26 ; Supellex Orat. xxiv. 



76 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK II. 

discipline the mind. This defect is sooner discovered by 
scholars than by others, when they come to the practice of 
the .civil professions. We may conclude our observations 
on university reform, with the expression of Caesar in his 
letter to Oppius and Balbus : " Hoc quemadmodum fieri 
possit, nonnulla mihi in mentem veniunt, et multa reperiri 
possunt : de iis rebus rogo vos, ut cogitationem suscipiatis." s 

The next want I discover is the little sympathy and cor- 
respondence which exists between colleges and universities, 
as well throughout Europe as in the same state and kingdom. 
In this we have an example in many orders and sodalities, 
which, though scattered over several sovereignties and terri- 
tories, yet enter into a kind of contract, fraternity, and cor- 
respondence with one another, and are associated under com- 
mon provincials and generals. And, surely, as nature creates 
brotherhood in families, and trades contract brotherhood in 
communities, 11 and the anointment of God establishes a 
brotherhood in kings and bishops, in like manner there 
should spring up a fraternity in learning and illumination, 
relating to that paternity which is attributed to God, who 
is called the Father of lights. 

Lastly, I may lament that no fit men have been engaged 
to forward those sciences which yet remain in an unfinished 
state. To supply this want it may be of service to perform, 
as it were, a lustrum of the sciences, and take account of 
what have been prosecuted and what omitted. For the idea 
of abundance is one of the causes of dearth ; and the multi- 
tude of books produces a deceitful impression of superfluity. 
This, however, is not to be remedied by destroying the books 
already written, but by making more good ones, which, like the 
serpent of Moses, may devour the serpents of the enchanters. i 
The removal of the defects I have enumerated, except the 
last, are indeed opera basilica, towards which the endeavours of 
one man can be but as an image on a cross road, which points 
out the way, but cannot tread it. But as the survey of the 
sciences which we have proposed lies within the power of a 

e Cic. ad Att. ix. 7. 

h The original is sodality, or guild societies, which had their origin in 
the middle ages, when members of the same calling formed a common 
fund and joined in certain spiritual exercises, taking a saint for their 
patron out of the Roman calendar. These institutions have since 
become commercial. Ed. i Exod. vii. 10. 



CHAP. I.] IX WHAT RESPECTS WORKS ARE POSSIBLE. 77 

private individual, it is my intention to make the circuit of 
knowledge, noticing what parts lie waste and uncultivated, 
and abandoned by the industry of man, with a view to engage, 
by a faithful mapping out of the deserted tracks, the energies 
of public and private persons in their improvement. My 
attention, however, is alone confined to the discovery, not to 
the correction of errors. For it is one thing to point out 
wdiat land lies uncultivated, and another thing to improve 
imperfect husbandry. 

In completing this design, I am ignorant neither of the 
greatness of the work nor my own incapacity. My hope, 
however, is, that, if the extreme love of my subject carry me 
too far, I may at least obtain the excuse of affection. It is 
not granted to man to love and be wise : " amare et sapere." 
On such topics opinion is free, and that liberty of judgment 
which I exercise myself lies equally at the disposition of all. 
And I for my part shall be as glad to receive correction from 
others as I am ready to point out defects myself. It is the 
common duty of humanity : " nam qui erranti comiter mon- 
strat viani." k I, indeed, foresee that many of the defects and 
omissions I shall point out will be much censured, some as 
being already completed, and others as too difficult to be 
effected. For the first objection I must refer to the details 
of my subject ; with regard to the last, I take it for granted 
that those works are possible which may be accomplished by 
some person, though not by every one ; which may be done 
by many, though not by one ; which may be completed in the 
succession of ages, though not within the hour-glass of one 
man's life ; and which may reached by public effort, though 
not by private endeavour. Nevertheless, if any man prefer 
the sentence of Solomon — "Dicit piger, Leo est in via;" 1 to 
that of Virgil, " possunt, quia posse videntur" m — I shall be 
content to have my labours received but as the better kind 
of wishes. For as it requires some knowledge to ask an 
apposite question, he also cannot be deemed foolish who 
entertains sensible desires. 

The justest division of human learning is that derived 
from the three different faculties of the soul, the seat of 
learning : history being relative to the memory, poetry to the 

k Cic. de Off. i. 16. l Prov. xxii. 13. m Virg. Ma. v. 231. 



78 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK II. 

imagination, and philosophy to the reason. By poetry we 
understand no more than feigned history or fable, without 
regard at present to the poetical style. History is properly 
concerned about individuals, circumscribed by time and 
place ; so likewise is poetry, with this difference, that its 
individuals are feigned, with a resemblance to true history, 
yet like painting, so as frequently to exceed it. But philo- 
sophy, forsaking individuals, fixes upon notions abstracted 
from them, and is employed in compounding and separating 
these notions according to the laws of nature and the evi- 
dence of things themselves. 

Any one will easily perceive the justness of this division 
that recurs to the origin of our ideas. Individuals first 
strike the sense, which is as it were the port or entrance of 
the understanding. Then the understanding ruminates upon 
these images or impressions received from the sense, either 
simply reviewing them, or wantonly counterfeiting and imi- 
tating them, or forming them into certain classes by com- 
position or separation. Thus it is clearly manifest that 
history, poetry, and philosophy flow from the three distinct 
fountains of the mind, viz., the memory, the imagination, 
and the reason ; without any possibility of increasing their 
number. For history and experience are one and the same 
thing i so are philosophy and the sciences. 

JSTor does divine learning require any other division ; for 
though revelation and sense may differ both in matter and 
manner, yet the spirit of man and its cells are the same ; 
and in this case receive, as it were, different liquors through 
different conduits. Theology, therefore, consists — 1. of sacred 
history ; 2. parable, or divine poesy; and 3. of holy doctrine 
or precept, as its fixed philosophy. As for prophecy, which 
seems a part redundant, it is no more than a species of 
history ; divine history having this prerogative over human, 
that the narration may precede, as well as succeed the fact. 



CHAP. II.] VARIOUS KINDS OF NATURAL HISTORY. 79 



CHAPTER II. 

History divided into Natural and Civil ; — Civil subdivided into Eccle- 
siastical and Literary. The Division of Natural History according to 
the subject matter, into the History of Generations, of Prseter- 
Generations, and the Arts. 

History is either natural or civil : the natural records the 
works and acts of nature; the civil, the works and acts of 
men. Divine interposition is unquestionably seen in both, 
particularly in the affairs of men, so far as to constitute a 
different species of history, winch we call sacred or ecclesias- 
tical. But such is the dignity of letters and arts, that they 
deserve a separate history, which, as well as the ecclesiastical, 
we comprehend under civil history. 

We form our division of natural history upon the three- 
fold state and condition of nature ; which is, 1. either free, 
proceeding in her ordinary course, without molestation ; 
or 2. obstructed by some stubborn and less common matters, 
and thence put out of her course, as in the production of 
monsters ; or 3. bound and wrought upon by human means, 
for the production of things artificial. Let all natural his- 
tory, therefore, be divided into the history of generations, 
prastergenerations, and arts ; the first to consider nature at 
liberty ; the second, nature in her errors ; and the third, 
nature in constraint. 

The history of arts should the rather make a species of 
natural history, because of the prevalent opinion, as if art 
were a different thing from nature, and things natural 
different from things artificial : whence many writers of 
natural history think they perform notably, if they give us 
the history of animals, plants, or minerals, without a word 
of the mechanic arts. A farther mischief is to have art 
esteemed no more than an assistant to nature, so as to help 
her forwards, correct or set her free, and not to bend, change, 
and radically affect her ; whence an untimely despair has 
crept upon mankind ; who should rather be assured that 
artificial things differ not from natural in form or essence, 
but only in the efficient : for man has no power over nature 
in anything but motion, whereby he either puts bodies to- 
gether, or separates them. And therefore, so far as natural 
bodies may be separated or conjoined, man may do anything. 



80 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK II. 

Eor matters it, if things are put in order for producing 
effects, whether it be done by human means or otherwise. 
Gold is sometimes purged by the fire, and sometimes found 
naturally pure : the rainbow is produced after a natural way, 
in a cloud above ; or made artificially, by the sprinkling of 
water below. As nature, therefore, governs all things by 
means, — 1. of her general course; 2. her excursion; and 3. by 
means of human assistance ; these three parts must be received 
into natural history, as in some measure they are by Pliny. 

The first of these parts, the history of creatures, is extant 
in tolerable perfection ; but the two others, the history of 
monsters and the history of arts, may be noted as deficient. 
For I find no competent collection of the works of nature 
digressing from the ordinary course of generations, produc- 
tions, and motions ; whether they be singularities of place 
and region, or strange events of time and chance ; effects of 
unknown properties, or instances of exceptions to general 
rules. We have indeed many books of fabulous experiments, 
secrets, and frivolous impostures, for pleasure and strangeness ; 
but a substantial and well-purged collection of heteroclites, 
or irregularities of nature, carefully examined and described, 
especially with a due rejection of fable and popular error, is 
wanting : for as things now stand, if false facts in nature be 
once on foot, through the neglect of examination, the coun- 
tenance of antiquity, and the use made of them in discourse, 
they are scarce ever retracted. 

The design of such a work, of which we have a precedent 
in Aristotle, is not to content curious and vain minds, but — 
1. to correct the depravity of axioms and opinions, founded 
upon common and familiar examples ; and 2. to show the 
wonders of nature, which give the shortest passage to the 
wonders of art : for by carefully tracing nature in her 
wanderings, we may be enabled to lead or compel her to the 
same again. Nor would we in this history of wonders have 
superstitious narrations of sorceries, witchcrafts, dreams, 
divinations, &c. totally excluded, where there is full evidence 
of the fact ; because it is not yet known in what cases, and 
how far effects attributed to superstition, depend upon 
natural causes. And, therefore, though the practice of such 
things is to be condemned ; yet the consideration of them 
may afford light, not only in judging criminals, but in 



CHAP. II.] IMPORTANCE OF MINUTE INQUIRIES. 81 

a deeper disclosure of nature. Nor should men scruple 
examining into these things, in order to discover truth : the 
sun, though it passes through dirty places, yet remains as 
pure as before. Those narrations, however, which have a 
tincture of superstition, should be kept separate, and un- 
mixed with others, that are merely natural. But the 
relations of religious prodigies and miracles, as being either 
false or supernatural, are unfit to enter into a history of 
nature. 

As for the history of nature wrought or formed, we have 
some collections of agriculture and manual arts, but com- 
monly with a rejection of familiar and vulgar experiments, 
which yet are of more service in the interpretation of nature 
than the uncommon ones : an inquiry into mechanical 
matters being reputed a dishonour to learning ; unless such 
as appear secrets, rarities, and subtilties. This supercilious 
arrogance, Plato justly derides in his representation of the 
dispute between Hippias and Socrates touching beauty. 
Socrates is represented, in his careless manner, citing first an 
example of a fair virgin, then a fine horse, then a smooth pot 
curiously glazed. This last instance moved Hippias' s choler, 
who said, " Were it not for politeness' sake, I would disdain to 
dispute with any that alleged such low and sordid examples." 
Whereupon Socrates replied, " You have reason, and it be- 
comes you well, being a man so sprucely attired, and so trim 
in your shoes." a And certainly the truth is, that they are not 
the highest instances that always afford the securest infor- 
mation j as is not unaptly expressed in the tale so common 
of the philosopher, 13 who, while he gazed upwards to the stars, 
fell into the water. c For had he looked down, he might have 
discovered the stars in the water \ but looking up to heaven, 
he could not see the water in the stars ; for mean and small 
things often discover great ones, better than great can dis- 
cover the small \ and therefore Aristotle observes, " That the 
nature of everything is best seen in its smallest portions." d 
Whence he seeks the nature of a commonwealth, first in a 
family ; and so the nature of the world, and the policy 
thereof must be sought in mean relations and small portions. 

a Plato, Hipp. Maj. iii. 291. b Thales ; see Plato, Theset. i. 174. 
c Laertius, "Liio of Thales." d Arist. Polit. i. and Phys. i. 
2 G 



82 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK II. 

The magnetic virtue of iron was not first discovered in bars, 
but in needles. 

But in my judgment tlie use of mechanical history is, of 
all others, the most fundamental towards such a natural 
philosophy as shall not vanish in the fume of subtile, 
sublime, or pleasing speculations ; but be operative to the 
endowment and benefit of human life ; as not only suggest- 
ing, for the present, many ingenious practices in all trades, 
by connecting and transferring the observations of one art 
to the uses of another, when the experience of several arts 
shall fall under the consideration of one man ; but as giving 
a more true and real illumination with regard to causes and 
axioms, than has hitherto appeared. For as a man's temper 
is never well known until he is crossed ; in like manner the 
turns and changes of nature cannot appear so fully, when 
she is left at her liberty, as in the trials and tortures of art. 

We add, that the body of this experimental history should 
not only be formed from the mechanic arts, but also from the 
operative and effective part of the liberal sciences, together 
with numerous practices, not hitherto brought into arts ; so 
that nothing may be omitted which has a tendency to inform 
the understanding. 6 

c And therefore the history of sophistications, or adulterations and 
frauds practised in arts and trades, ought to be inserted, which the 
learned Morhof adds as a fourth part of this experimental history, 
though it may seem sufficiently included under the history of arts, as 
being the secret part essential to every art, and properly called the 
mystery or craft thereof. Of these impositions, a large number may be 
readily collected, and serve not only to quicken the understanding and 
enrich experimental history, but also to contribute to perfect the science 
of economical prudence. For contraries illustrate each other, and to 
know the sinister practices of an art gives light to the art itself, as well 
as puts men upon their guard against being deceived. See Morhof's- 
" Polyhist." torn. ii. p. 128. Shaw. 



CHAP. III. j USES OF NATURAL HISTORY. 83 



CHAPTER III. 

Second Division of Natural History, in relation to its Use and End, into 
Narrative and" Inductive. The most important end of Natural His- 
tory is to aid in erecting a Body of Philosophy which appertains to 
Induction. Division of the Histoiy of Generations into the History 
of the Heavens, the History of Meteors, the History of the Earth and 
Sea, the History of Massive or Collective Bodies, and the History of 
Species. 

As natural history lias three parts, so it has two principal 
uses, and affords, — 1. a knowledge of the things themselves 
that are committed to history ; and 2. the first matter of 
philosophy. But the former, though it has its advantages, 
is of much more inferior consideration than the other, which 
is a collection of materials for a just and solid induction, 
whereon philosophy is to he grounded. And in this view, 
we again divide natural history into narrative and inductive ; 
the latter whereof is wanting. If the natural history extant, 
though apparently of great bulk and variety, were to be 
carefully weeded of its fables, antiquities, quotations, frivolous 
disputes, philology, ornaments, and table-talk, it would shrink 
to a slender bulk. But besides, a history of this kind is far 
from what we require, as wanting the two above-mentioned 
parts of a natural history, viz. prcetergenerations and arts, 
on which we lay great stress ; and only answers one part in 
five of the third, viz. that of generations. For the history 
of generations has five subordinate parts ; viz. 1. The celestial 
bodies, considered in their naked phenomena, stripped of 
opinions ; 2. Meteors, comets, a and the regions of the air ; 

3. The earth and sea, as integral parts of the universe, 
including mountains, rivers, tides, sands, woods, and islands, 
with a view to natural inquiries rather than cosmography ; 

4. The elements, or greater assemblages of matter, as I call 
them, — viz. fire, air, water, and earth ; and 5. The species of 
bodies, or more exquisite collections of matter, by us called 
the smaller assemblages, in w r hich alone the industry of 

a Bacon, in the original, classes comets among meteors, yet fifteen 
hundred years before, Seneca had placed them among planets, predicting 
that the time would arrive when their seemingly erratic motions would 
he found to be the result of the same laws. We need hardly remind the 
reader of the realization of this sage conjecture in the magnificent dis- 
coveries of Sir Isaac Newton. Ed. 

g2 



84 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK II. 

writers lias appeared, and that too rather in a luxurious than 
solid manner ; as rather abounding in things superfluous, 
viz. the representation of plants and animals, &c., than care- 
ful observations, which should ever be subjoined to natural 
history. In fine, all the natural history we have is absolutely 
unfit for the end we propose, viz. to build philosophy upon ; 
and this both in the manner and matter thereof ; hence we 
set down inductive history as deficient. 



CHAPTER IV. 

Civil History divided into Ecclesiastical and Literary. Deficiency of 
the latter. The Absence of Precepts for its Compilation. 

Civil history, in general, may be divided into three parti- 
cular kinds, viz. sacred, civil, and literary; the latter whereof 
being wanting, the history of the world appears like the 
statue of Polyphemus, without its eye ; the part that best 
shows the life and spirit of the person. In many particular 
sciences indeed, as the law, mathematics, and rhetoric, there 
are extant some short memoirs, and jejune relations of 
sects, schools, books, authors, and the successions of this kind 
of sciences, as well as some trivial accounts of the inventors 
of things and arts ; but we say, that a just and universal 
literary history has not hitherto been published. 

The design of this work should be, to relate from the 
earliest accounts of time, — 1. what particular kinds of learn- 
ing and arts flourished, in what ages, and what parts of the 
world ; 2. their antiquities, progress, and travels on the 
globe ; 3. their decline, disappearance, and restoration. In 
each art should be observed, 4. its origin and occasion of in- 
vention ; 5. the manner and form of its delivery ; and 6. the 
means of its introduction, exercise, and establishment. Add 
to these, 7. the most famous sects and controversies of learned 
men ; 8. the calumnies they suffered, and the praises and 
honours they received ; 9. all along let the best authors and 
books be noted ; with 10. the schools, successions, academies, 
societies, colleges, orders, and whatever regards the state of 
learning : but 11. principally let events be throughout coupled 
with their causes (which is the soul, as it were, of civil history), 
in relating the nature of countries and people, and 12. their 



CHAP. IV.-V.] THE USE AND END OF THE WORK. 85 

disposition and indisposition to different kinds of learning ; 
13. the accidents of time, whether favourable or destructive 
to the sciences ; 14. the zeal and mixture of religion ; 15. the 
severity and lenity of laws ; 1 6. the remarkable patronage, 
efforts, and endowments of illustrious men, for the promotion 
of learning and the like. All which we would have handled, 
not in the manner of critics, who barely praise and censure ; 
but historically, or in the way of a naked delivery of facts, 
with but a sparing use of private judgment. 

For the manner of writing this history, we particularly 
advise the materials of it to be drawn, not only from histories 
and critical works, but also that the principal books of every 
century be regularly consulted downwards ; so far we mean, 
as that a taste may be had, or a judgment formed, of the 
subject, style, and method thereof; whence the literary 
genius of every age may at pleasure be raised, as it were, 
from the dead. 

The use and end of this work is not to derive honour and 
pomp to learning, nor to gratify an eager curiosity and fond- 
ness of knowing and preserving whatever may relate thereto ; 
but chiefly to make learned men wise, in the prudent and 
sober exercise and administration of learning, and by mark- 
ing out the virtues and vices of intellectual things, as well as 
the motions and perturbations of states, to show how the 
best regulation and government may be thence derived ; for 
as the works of St. Austin or St. Ambrose will not make so 
wise a divine as a thorough reading of Ecclesiastical History, 
the same will hold true of learned men with regard to 
particular books and literary history : for whoever is not 
supported by examples and the remembrance of things, must 
always be exposed to contingencies and precipitancy. 



CHAPTER V. 

The Dignity of Civil History and the Obstacles it has to encounter. 

Civil history, particularly so called, is of prime dignity and 
authority among human writings ; as the examples of anti- 
quity, the revolutions of things, the foundations of civil 
prudence, with the names and reputations of men, are 
committed to its trust. But it is attended with no less 



86 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK II. 

difficulty tlian dignity ; for it is a work of great labour and 
judgment, to throw the mind back upon things past, and 
store it with antiquity ; diligently to search into, and with 
fidelity and freedom relate, 1. the commotions of times ; 
2. the characters of persons ; 3. the instability of counsels ; 
4. the courses of actions ; 5. the bottoms of pretences ; 
6. the secrets of state ; and 7. to set all this to view in pro- 
per and suitable language : especially as ancient transactions 
are uncertain, and late ones exposed to danger. Whence 
such a civil history is attended with numerous defects ; the 
greater part of historians writing little more than empty and 
vulgar narrations, and such as are really a disgrace to history ; 
while some hastily draw up particular relations and trivial 
memoirs, some only run over the general heads of actions ; 
and others descend to the minutest particular, which have no 
relation to the principal action. These, in compliance with 
their genius, boldly invent many of the things they write ; 
whilst those stamp the image of their own affections upon 
what they deliver ; thus preserving fidelity to their party, but 
not to things themselves. Some are constantly inculcating 
politics, in which they take most pleasure, and seek all 
occasions of exhibiting themselves, thus childishly interrupting 
the thread of their history ; whilst others are too tedious, 
and show but little judgment in the prolixity of their 
speeches, harangues, and accounts of actions ; so that in 
short, nothing is so seldom found anion the writings of men 
as true and perfect civil history. 



CHAPTER VI. 

Division of Civil History into Memoirs, Antiquities, and Perfect 

History. 

This civil history is of three kinds, and bears resemblance 
to three kinds of pictures ; viz,, the unfinished, the finished, 
and the defaced : thus civil history, which is the picture of 
times and things, appears in memoirs, just history, and 
antiquities ; but memoirs are history begun, or the first 
strokes and materials of it ; and antiquities are history 
defaced, or remnants that have escaped the shipwreck of 
time. 



CHAP. VI.-VII.] VARIOUS KINDS OF CIVIL HISTORY. 87 

Memoirs, or memorials, are of two kinds ; whereof the 
one may be termed commentaries, the other registers. In 
commentaries are set down naked events and actions in 
sequence, without the motives, designs, counsels, speeches, 
pretexts, occasions, &c. ; for such is the true nature of a com- 
mentary-, though Csesar, in modesty mixed with greatness, 
called the best history in the world a commentary. 

Registers are of two kinds ; as either containing the titles 
of things and persons in order of time, by way of calendars 
and chronicles, or else after the manner of journals, preserving 
the edicts of princes, decrees of council, judicial proceedings, 
declarations, letters of state, and public orations, without 
continuing the thread of the narration. 

Antiquities are the wrecks of history, wherein the memory 
of things is almost lost ; or such particulars as industrious 
persons, with exact and scrupulous diligence, can any way 
collect from genealogies, calendars, titles, inscriptions, monu- 
ments, coins, names, etymologies, proverbs, traditions, 
archives, instruments, fragments of public and private 
history, scattered passages of books no way historical, &c. ; 
by which means something is recovered from the deluge of 
time. This is a laborious work ; yet acceptable to mankind, 
as carrying with it a kind of reverential awe, and deserves 
to come in the place of those fabulous and fictitious origins 
of nations we abound with ; though it has the less authority, 
as but few have examined and exercised a liberty of thought 
about it. 

In these kinds of imperfect history, no deficiency need be 
noted, they being of their own nature imperfect : but 
epitomes of history are the corruption and moths that have 
fretted and corroded many sound and excellent bodies of 
history, and reduced them to base and unprofitable dregs ; 
whence all men of sound judgment declare the use of them 
ought to be banished. 



CHAPTER VII. , 

Division of History into Chronicles, Biographies, and Perfect Relations. 
The Development of their parts. 

Just history is of three kinds, with regard to the three 
objects it designs to represent ; which are either a portion 



88 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK II. 

of time, a memorable person, or an illustrious action. The 
first kind we call writing annals or chronicles ; the second, 
lives; and the third, narratives or relations. Chronicles 
share the greatest esteem and reputation, but lives excel in 
advantage and use, as relations do in truth and sincerity. 
For chronicles represent only grand public actions, and ex- 
ternal shows and appearances to the people, and drop the 
smaller passages and motions of men and things. But as the 
divine artificer hangs the greatest weight upon the smallest 
strings, so such histories rather show the pomp of affairs, 
than their true and inward springs. And though it in- 
tersperses counsel, yet delighting in grandeur/ it attributes 
more gravity and prudence to human actions, than really 
appears in them ; so that satire might be a truer picture of 
human life, than certain histories of this kind : whereas 
lives, if wrote with care and judgment, proposing to repre- 
sent a person, in whom actions, both great and small, public 
and private, are blended together, must of necessity give a 
more genuine, native, and lively representation, and such as 
is fitter for imitation. 

Particular relations of actions, as of the Peloponnesian 
war, and the expedition of Cyrus, may likewise be made with 
greater truth and exactness than histories of times ; as 
their subject is more level to the inquiry and capacity of the 
writer, whilst they who undertake the history of any large 
portion of time must need meet with blanks and empty 
spaces, which they generally fill up out of their own invention. 
This exception, however, must be made to the sincerity of 
relations, that, if they be wrote near the times of the actions 
themselves, they are, in that case, to be greatly suspected of 
partiality or prejudice. But as it is usual for opposite parties 
to publish relations of the same transactions, they, by this 
means, open the way to truth, which lies betwixt the two 
extremes : so that, after the heat of contention is allayed, a 
good and wise historian may hence be furnished with matter 
for a more perfect history. 

As to the deficiencies in these three kinds of history, 
doubtless many particular transactions have been left unre- 
corded, to the great prejudice, in point of honour and glory, 
of those kingdoms and states wherein they passed. But to 
omit other nations, we have particular reason to complain to 



CHAP. VII.] INTERESTING CHARACTER OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 89 

your Majesty of the imperfection of the present history of 
England, in the main continuance of it, and the partiality 
and obliquity of that of Scotland, in the most copious- and 
recent account that has been left us. As this island of 
Great Britain will now, as one united monarchy, descend to 
future ages, we cannot but deem it a work alike honourable 
to your Majesty, and grateful to posterity, that exploits were 
collected in one history, in the style of the ancient Testa- 
ment, which hands down the story of the ten tribes and the 
two tribes as twins together. If the greatness of the under- 
taking, however, should prove any obstacle to its perfect 
execution, a shorter period of time, fraught with the greatest 
interest, occurs from the junction of the roses to the union 
of the two kingdoms — a space of time which to me appears 
to contain a crowd of more memorable events than ever oc- 
curred in any hereditary monarchy of similar duration. For 
it commences with the conjoint adoption of a crown by arms, 
and title, an entry by battle, and a marriage settlement. 
The times which follow, partaking of the nature of such 
beginnings, like waters after a tempest, full of workings and 
swellings, though without boisterous storms, being well navi- 
gated by the wisdom of the pilot, a one of the most able of 
his predecessors. Then succeeded the reign of a king, whose 
policy, though rather actuated by passion than counsel, exer- 
cised great influence upon the courts of Europe, balancing 
and variably inclining their various interests ; in whose time, 
also, began that great change of religion, an action seldom 
brought on the stage. Then the reign of a minor. Then an 
attempt at usurpation, though it was but as a " febris ephe- 
mera : then the reign of a queen, matched with a foreigner : 
then the reign of a queen, solitary and unmarried. And 
now, as a close, the glorious and auspicious event of the 
union of an island, divided from the rest of the world : so 
that we may say the old oracle which gave rest to ^Eneas, 
" antiquam exquirite matrem," 13 is fulfilled in the union of 
England and Scotland under one sceptre. Thus as massive 
bodies, drawn aside from their course, experience certain 
waverings and trepidations before they fix and settle, so this 
monarchy, before it was to settle in your Majesty and your 

a Henry VII. b Mil iii. 96. 



90 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK II. 

heirs, in whom I hope it is established for ever, seems by the 
providence of God to have undergone these mutations and 
deflections as a prelude to stability. 

With regard to lives, we cannot but wonder that our own 
times have so little value for what they enjoy, as not more 
frequently to write the lives of eminent men. For though 
kings, princes, and great personages are few, yet there are 
many other excellent men who deserve better than vague 
reports and barren elogies. Here the fancy of a late poet, 
who has improved an ancient fiction, is not inapplicable. 
He feigns that at the end of the thread of every man's life, 
there hung a medal, on which the name of the deceased is 
stamped ; and that Time, waiting upon the shears of the fatal 
sister, as soon as the thread was cut, caught the medals, 
and threw them out of his bosom into the river Lethe. He 
also represented many birds flying over its banks, who 
caught the medals in their beaks, and after carrying them 
about for a certain time, allowed them to fall in the river. 
Among these birds were a few swans, who used, if they caught 
a medal, to carry it to a certain temple consecrated to im- 
mortality. Such swans, however, are rare in our age. And 
although many, more mortal in their affections than their 
bodies, esteem the desire of fame and memory but a vanity, 
and despise praise, whilst they do nothing that is praise- 
worthy, — " animos nil magnse laudis egentes ; " c yet their phi- 
losophy springs from the root, " non prius laudes contem- 
psimus quam laudanda facere desivimus ; " and does not 
alter Solomon's judgment, — "the memory of the just shall be 
with praises ; but the name of the wicked shall rot ; " d the 
one flourishing, whilst the other consumes or turns to cor- 
ruption. So in that laudable way of speaking of the dead, 
" of happy memory ! of pious memory ! " &c., we seem to 
acknowledge, with Cicero and Demosthenes, u that a good 
name is the proper inheritance of the deceased ;" e which in- 
heritance is lying waste in our time, and deserves to be 
noticed as a deficiency. 

In the business of relations it is, also, to be wished that 
greater diligence were employed ; for there is no signal 
action, but has some good pen to describe it. But very few 

c iEn. v. 751. d Prov. x. 7. e Demos th. adv. Lept. 483. 



CHAP. VIII.] HISTORY OF TIMES. 91 

being qualified to write a complete history, suitable to. its dig- 
nity (a thing wherein so many have failed), if memorable acts 
were but tolerably related as they pass, this might lay the 
foundations, and afford materials for a complete history of 
times, when a writer should arise equal to the work. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Division of the History of Times into Universal and Particular. The 
Advantages and Disadvantages of both. 

History of times is either general or particular, as it re- 
lates the transactions of the whole world, or of a certain 
kingdom or nation. And there have been those who would 
seem to give us the history of the world from its origin ; 
but, in reality, offer only a rude collection of things, and 
certain short narratives instead of a history ; whilst others 
have nobly, and to good advantage, endeavoured to describe, 
as in a just history, the memorable things, which in their 
time happened over all the globe. For human affairs are 
not so far divided by empires and countries, but that in 
many cases they still preserve a connection : whence it is 
proper enough to view, as in one picture, the fates of an age. 
And such a general history as this may frequently contain 
particular reflations, which, though of value, might otherwise 
either be lost, or never again reprinted : at least, the heads 
of such accounts may be thus preserved. But upon mature 
consideration, the laws of just history appear so severe as 
scarcely to be observed in so large a field of matter, whence 
the bulkiness of history should rather be retrenched than 
enlarged ; otherwise, he who has such variety of matter 
everywhere to collect, if he preserve not constantly the 
strictest watch upon his informations, will be apt to take up 
with rumours and popular reports, and work such kind of 
superficial matter into his history. And, then, to retrench 
the whole, he will be obliged to pass over many things other- 
wise worthy of relation, and often to contract and shorten 
his style ; wherein there lies no small danger of frequently 
cutting off useful narrations, in order to oblige mankind in. 
their favourite way of compendium ; whence such accounts, 
which might otherwise live of themselves, may come to be 
utterlv lost. 



ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK II, 



CHAPTER IX. 

Second Division of the History of Times into Annals and Journals. 

History of times is likewise divisible into annals and 
journals, according to the observation of Tacitus, where, 
mentioning the magnificence of certain structures, he adds, 
" It was found suitable to the Roman dignity that illustrious 
things should be committed to annals, but such as these to 
the publie journals of the city;" a thus referring what related 
to the state of the commonwealth to annals, and smaller 
matters to journals. And so there should be a kind of 
heraldry in regulating the dignities of books as well as per- 
sons : for as nothing takes more from the dignity of a state 
than confusion of orders and degrees, so it greatly takes from 
the authority of history to intermix matters of triumph, 
ceremony, and novelty, with matters of state. And it were 
to be wished that this distinction prevailed ; but in our 
times journals are only used at sea and in military expedi- 
tions, whereas among the ancients it was a regal honour to 
have the daily acts of the palace recorded, as we see in the 
case of Ahasuerus, king of Persia. b And the journals of 
Alexander the Great contained even trivial matters \ c yet 
journals are not destined for trivial things alone, as annals 
are for serious ones, but contain all things promiscuously, 
whether of greater or of less concern. 



CHAPTEK X. 

Second Division of Special Civil History into Pure and Mixed. 

The last division of civil history is into pure and mixed. 
Of the mixed there are two eminent kinds, — the one princi- 
pally civil, and the other principally natural : for a kind of 
writing has been introduced that does not give particular 
narrations in the continued thread of a history, but where 
the writer collects and culls them, with choice, out of an 
author, then reviewing and as it were ruminating upon 
them, takes occasion to treat of political subjects; and this 

a Annals, xiii. 31. \ b Esther vi. 1. 

c Plutarch's Symposium, i. qu. 6 ; and Alex. Life, xxiii. 76. 



CHAP. X.] PROSPECT OF ADVANCEMENT IN SCIENCE. 93 

kind of ruminated Iiistory we highly esteem, provided the 
writers keep close to it professedly, for it is both unseason- 
able and irksome to have an author profess he will write a 
proper history, yet at every turn introduce politics, and 
thereby break the thread of his narration. All wise his- 
tory is indeed pregnant with political rules and precepts, 
but the writer is not to take all opportunities of delivering 
himself of them. 

Cosmographical history is also mixed many ways, — as 
taking the descriptions of countries, their situations and 
fruits, from natural history; the accounts of cities, govern- 
ments, and manners, from civil history; the climates and 
astronomical phenomena, from mathematics : in which kind 
of history the present age seems to excel, as having a full 
view of the world in this light. The ancients had some 
knowledge of the zones and antipodes, — 

" Bosque ubi primus equis oriens afilavit anhelis, 
Illic sera rubens accendit lumina vesper/' a — 

though rather by abstract demonstration than fact. But 
that little vessels, like the celestial bodies, should sail round 
the whole globe, is the happiness of our age. These times, 
moreover, may justly use not only plus ultra, where the 
ancients used non plus ultra, but also imitabile fulmen where 
the ancients said non imitabile fulmen, — 

" Demens qui nimbos et non imitabile fulmen. " b 

This improvement of navigation may give us great hopes 
of extending and improving the sciences, especially as 
it seems agreeable to the Divine will that they should be 
coeval. Thus the prophet Daniel foretells, that " Many 
shall go to and fro on the earth, and knowledge shall be in- 
creased," c as if the openness and thorough passage of the 
world and the increase of knowledge were allotted to the 
same age, which indeed we find already true in part : for the 
learning of these times scarce yields to the former periods or 
returns of learning, — the one among the Greeks and the 
other among the Romans, and in many particulars far ex- 
ceeds them. 

a Virgil, Georgics, i. 251. b Virgil, JEneid, vi. 590. 

c Dan. xii. 4. 



Oi ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK II. 



CHAPTER XI. 

Ecclesiastical History divided into the General History of the Church, 
History of Prophecy, and History of Providence. 

Ecclesiastical history in general has nearly the same 
divisions with civil history: thus there are ecclesiastical 
chronicles, lives of the fathers, accounts of synods, and other 
ecclesiastical matters; but in propriety it may be farther 
divided, — 1. Into the general history of the Church; 2. The 
history of prophecy ; and, 3. The history of providence. The 
first describes the times of the Church militant, whether 
fluctuating, as the ark of Noah; moveable, as the ark in the 
wilderness : or at rest, as the ark in the temple ; that is, in 
the states of persecution, migration, and peace. And in this 
part there is a redundancy rather than a deficiency, but it 
were to be wished the goodness and sincerity of it were 
equal to the bulk. 

The second part, viz. the history of prophecy, consists 
of two relatives, — the prophecy and the accomplishment; 
whence the nature of it requires, that every Scripture pro- 
phecy be compared with the event, through all the ages of 
the world, for the better confirmation of the faith and the 
better information of the Church with regard to the inter- 
pretation of prophecies not yet fulfilled. But here we must 
allow that latitude which is peculiar and familiar to divine 
prophecies, which have their completion not only at stated 
times, but in succession, as participating of the nature of 
their author, " with whom a thousand years are but as- one 
day," a and therefore are not fulfilled punctually at once, but 
have a growing accomplishment through many ages, though 
the height or fulness of them may refer to a single age or 
moment. And this is a work which I find deficient ; but it 
should either be undertaken with wisdom, sobriety, and 
reverence, or not at all. 

The third part, — the history of providence, has been touched 
by some pious pens, but not without a mixture of party. 
This history is employed in observing that Divine agreement 
which there sometimes is betwixt the revealed and secret 
will of God. For although the counsels and judgments of 



a Psalm Ixxxix. 4, 



CHAP. XII.] APPENDIX TO HISTORY. 95 

God are so secret as to be absolutely unsearchable to man, 15 
yet the Divine goodness has sometimes thought fit, for the 
confirmation of his own people, and the confutation of those 
who are as without God in the world; to write them in such 
capital letters, as they who run may read them. c Such are 
the remarkable events and examples of God's judgments, 
though late and unexpected, sudden and unhoped for delive- 
rances and blessings, Divine counsels dark and doubtful at 
length opening and explaining themselves, dec. All which 
have not only a power to confirm the minds of the faithful, 
but to awaken and convince the consciences of the wicked. 



CHAPTER XII. 

The Appendix of History embraces the Words of Men, as the Body of 
History includes their Exploits. Its Division into Speeches, Letters, 
and Apophthegms. 

And not only the actions of mankind, but also their say- 
ings, ought to be preserved, and may doubtless be sometimes 
inserted in history, so far as" they decently seiwe to illustrate 
the narration of facts; but books of orations, epistles, and 
apophthegms, are the proper repositories of human discourse. 
The speeches of wise men upon matter of business, weighty 
causes, or difficult points, are of great use, not only for elo- 
quence, but for the knowledge of things themselves. But 
the letters of wise men upon serious affairs are yet more 
serviceable in points of civil prudence, as of all human speech 
nothing is more solid or excellent than such epistles, for ' 
they contain more of natural sense than orations, and more 
ripeness than occasional discourses : so letters of state affairs, 
written in the order of time by those that manage them, 
with their answers, afford the best materials for civil 
history. 

Nor do apophthegms only serve for ornament and delight, 
but also for action and civil use, as being the edge-tools of 
speech, — 

** Secures aut miicrones verbornm," a 

which cut and penetrate the knots of business and affairs : 

b 1 Cor. ii. c Epis. to the Ephesians ii. and Habak. ii. 

a Cicero's Epis. Earn. ix. 



96 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK IT. 

for occasions have their revolutions, and what has once been 
advantageously used may be so again, either as an old thing 
or a new one. ]STor can the usefulness of these sayings in 
civil affairs be questioned, when Csesar himself wrote a book 
upon the subject, which we^wish were extant ; for all those 
we have yet seen of the kind appear to be collected with 
little choice and judgment. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

The Second leading Branch of Learning — Poetry. Its Division into 
Narrative, Dramatic, and Parabolic. Three Examples of the latter 
species detailed. 

Poetry is a kind of learning generally confined to the 
measure of words, but otherwise extremely licentious, and 
truly belonging to the imagination, which, being unrestrained 
by laws, may make what unnatural mixtures and separations 
it pleases. It is taken in two senses, or with respect to 
words and matter. The first is but a character of style and 
a certain form of speech not relating to the subject, for a 
true narration may be delivered in verse and a feigned one 
in prose ; but the second is a capital part of learning, and no 
other than feigned history. And here, as in our divisions, 
we endeavour to find and trace the true sources of learning, 
and this frequently without giving way to custom or the 
established order, — we shall take no particular notice of 
satire, elegy, epigram, ode, &c, but turn them over to philo- 
sophy and the arts of speech, and under the name of poetry 
treat nothing more than imaginary history. 

The just est division of poetry, except what it shares in 
common with history (which has its feigned chronicles, 
feigned lives, and feigned relations), is, — 1. Into narrative ; 
2. Dramatic ; and, 3. Allegorical. Narrative poetry is such 
an exact imitation of history as to deceive, did it not often 
carry things beyond probability. Dramatic poetry is a kind 
of visible history, giving the images of things as if they were 
present, whilst history represents them as past. But allego- 
rical poetry is history with its type, which represents intel- 
lectual things to the senses. 

Narrative poetry, otherwise called heroic poetry, seems, 



CHAP. XIII.] THE MERITS OF POETRY. 97 

with regard to its matter, not the versification, raised upon 
a noble foundation, as having a principal regard to the dig- 
nity of human nature. For as the active world is inferior 
to the rational soul, so poetry gives that to mankind wliich 
history denies, and in some measure satisfies the mind with 
shadows when it cannot enjoy the substance. For, upon a 
narrow inspection, poetry strongly shows that a greater 
grandeur of things, a more perfect order, and a more beauti- 
ful variety is pleasing to the mind than can anywhere be 
found in nature after the fall. So that, as the actions and 
events, which are the subjects of true history, have not that 
grandeur which satisfies the mind, poetry steps in and feigns 
more heroical actions. And as real history gives us not the 
success of things according to the deserts of virtue and vice, 
poetry corrects it, and presents us with the fates and for- 
tunes of persons rewarded or punished according to merit. 
And as real history disgusts us with a familiar and constant* 
similitude of things, poetry relieves us by unexpected turns 
and changes, and thus not only delights, but inculcates 
morality and nobleness of soul. Whence it may be justly 
rued of a Divine nature, as it raises the mind, by accom- 
modating the images of things to our desires, and not, like 
history and reason, subjecting the mind to things. And by 
its charms, and congruity to the mind, with the assist- 
ance also of music, which conveys it the sweeter, it makes its 
own way, so as to have been in high esteem in the most 
ignorant ages, and among the most barbarous people, whilst 

ter kinds of learning were utterly excluded. 

Dramatic poetry, which has the theatre for its world, 
would be of excellent use if it were sotmd ; for the discipline 
and corruption of the theatre is of very great consequence. 
And the corruptions of this kind are numerous in our time-. 
but the regulation quite neglected. The action of the theatre, 
though modern states esteem it but ludicrous, unless it be 
satirical and biting, was carefully watched by the ancients, 
that it might improve mankind in virtue : and indeed many 
wise men and great philosophers have thought it to the 
mind as the bow to the fiddle : and certain it is, though a 
great secret in nature, that the minds of men in company 
more open to affections and impressions than when alone. 

But allegorical poetry excels the others, and appears a, 
2 H 



98 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK II, 

solemn sacred tiling, which religion itself generally makes 
use of, to preserve an intercourse between divine and human 
things ; yet this, also, is corrupted by a levity and indulgence 
of genius towards allegory. Its use is ambiguous, and made 
to serve contrary purposes ; for it envelops as well as illus- 
trates, — the first seeming to endeavour at an art of conceal- 
ment, and the other at a method of instructing, much used 
by the ancients. For when the discoveries and conclusions 
of reason, though now common, were new, and first known, 
the human capacity could scarce admit them in their subtile 
state, or till they were brought nearer to sense, by such kind 
of imagery and examples ; whence ancient times are full of 
their fables, their allegories, and their similes. From this 
source arise the symbol of Pythagoras, the enigmas of 
Sphinx, and the fables of .ZEsop. Nay, the apophthegms of 
the ancient sages were usually demonstrated by similitudes. 
And as hieroglyphics preceded letters, so parables preceded 
arguments ; and the force of parables ever was and will be 
great, as being clearer than arguments, and more apposite 
than real examples. 

The other use of allegorical poetry is to envelop things, 
whose dignity deserves a veil ; as when th.e secrets and 
mysteries of religion, policy, and philosophy, are wrapped up 
in fables and parables. But though some may doubt whether 
there be any mystical sense concealed in the ancient fables 
of the poets, we cannot but think there is a latent mystery 
intended in some of them : for we do not, therefore, judge 
contemptibly of them, because they are commonly left to 
children and grammarians ; but as the writings that relate 
these fables are, next to the sacred ones, the most ancient, 
and the fables themselves much older still, being not deli- 
vered as the inventions of the writers, but as things before 
believed and received, they appear like a soft whisper from 
the traditions of more ancient nations, conveyed through the 
flutes of the Grecians. But all hitherto attempted towards 
the interpretation of these parables proving unsatisfactory to 
us, as having proceeded from men of but common-place 
learning, we set down the philosophy of ancient fables as the 
only deficiency in poetry. But lest any person should ima- 
gine that any of these deficiencies are rather notional than 
real, and that we, like augurs, only measure countries in 



CHAP. XIII.] THE FABLE OF PAN INTERPRETED. 99 

our mind, and know not how to invade them, we will pro- 
ceed to subjoin examples of the work we recommend. These 
shall be three in number, — one taken from natural philo- 
sophy, one from politics, and another from morals. 

PAX, OE NATUKE. a 

Explained of Natural Philosophy. 

" The ancients have, with great exactness, delineated 
universal nature under the person of Pan. They leave his 
origin doubtful : some asserting him the son of Mercury, and 
others the common offspring of all Penelope's suitors. The 
latter supposition doubtless occasioned some later writers to 
entitle this ancient fable, Penelope — a thing frequently prac- 
tised when the early relations are applied to more modern 
characters and persons, though sometimes with great absur- 
dity and ignorance, as in the present case : for Pan was one 
of the ancientest gods, and long before the time of Ulysses : 
besides, Penelope was venerated by antiquity for her matronal 
chastity. A third sort will have him the issue of Jupiter 
and Hybris, that is, Beproach. But whatever his origin was, 
the Destinies are allowed his sisters. 

" He is described by antiquity with pyramidal horns 
reaching up to heaven, a rough and shaggy body, a very long 
beard, of a biform figure, human above, half-brute below, 
ending in goat's feet. His arms, or ensigns of power, are a 
pipe in his left hand, composed of seven reeds ; in his right 
a crook ; and he wore for his mantle a leopard's skin. 

" His attributes and titles were, the god of hunters, shep- 
herds, and all the rural inhabitants ; president of the moun- 
tains, and after Mercury the next messenger of the gods. 
He was also held the leader and ruler of the Nymphs, who 
continually danced and frisked about him, attended with the 
Satyrs, and their elders the Sileni. He had also the power 
of striking terrors, especially such as were vain and super- 
stitious ; whence they came to be called panic terrors. 15 

' " Few actions are recorded of him ; only a principal one is, 
that he challenged Cupid at wrestling, and was worsted. 
He also catched the giant Typhon in a net, and held him 
fast. They relate farther of him, that when Ceres growing 

a Hymn to Pan, Horn. Odyss. ver. fin. b Cicero, Epis. to Atticus, 5. 

h2 



100 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK II. 

disconsolate for the rape of Proserpine, "hid herself, and all 
the gods took the utmost pains to find her, by going out 
different ways for that purpose, Pan only had the good 
fortune to meet her as he was hunting, and discovered her 
to the rest. He likewise had the assurance to rival Apollo 
in music; and in the judgment of Midas was preferred: but 
the judge had, though with great privacy and secrecy, a pair 
of ass's ears fastened on him for his sentence. 

" There is very little said of his amours, which may seem 
strange among such a multitude of gods, so profusely amo- 
rous. Pie is only reported to have been very fond of Echo, 
who was also esteemed his wife ; and one nymph more called 
Syrinx, with the love of whom Cupid inflamed him for his 
insolent challenge ; so he is reported, once, to have solicited 
the moon to accompany him apart into the deep woods. 

" Lastly, Pan had no descendant, which also is a wonder, 
when the male gods were so extremely prolific ; only he 
was the reputed father of a servant girl, called Iambe, who 
used to divert strangers with her ridiculous and prattling 
stories." 

This fable is, perhaps, the noblest of all antiquity, and 
pregnant with the mysteries and secrets of nature. Pan, as 
the name imports, represents the universe, about whose 
origin there are two opinions ; viz., that it either sprung 
from Mercury, that is, the Divine Word, according to the 
Scriptures and philosophical divines ; or from the confused 
seeds of things. For some of the philosophers 11 held that the 
seeds and elements of nature were infinite in their substance ; 
whence arose the opinion of homogeneous primary parts, 
which Anaxagoras either invented or propagated. Others 
more accurately maintain that the variety of nature can 
equally spring from seeds, certain and definite in substance, 
but only diversified in form and figure, and attribute the 
remaining varieties to the interior organization of the seeds 
themselves. From this source the doctrine of atoms is de- 
rived, which Democritus maintained, and Leucippus found 
out. But others teach only one principle of nature — Thales, 
water; Anaximenes, air; Heraclitus, fire c — and defined this 

c Ovid, Metamorphoses, ii. d Anaxagoras, in Diog. Laert. 

e This difference between the three philosophies is nothing else, as 
Hippocrates has observed (De Dicta, lib. i.), than a mere dispute about 



CHAP. XIII.] THE FABLE OF PAN INTERPRETED. 101 

principle, which is one in act, to be various and dispensable 
in powers, and involving the seeds of all natural essences. 
They who introduced, — as Aristotle and Plato/ — primordial 
matter, every way disarranged, shapeless, and indifferent to 
any form, approached nearer to a resemblance of the figure 
of the parable. For they conceived matter as a courtezan, 
and the forms as suitors; so that the whole dispute comes to 
these two points : viz., either that nature proceeds from 
Mercury, or from Penelope and all her suitors.? 

The third origin of Pan seems borrowed by the Greeks 
from the Hebrew mysteries, either by means of the Egyp- 
tians, or otherwise ; for it relates to the state of the world, 
not in its first creation, but as made subject to death 
and corruption after the fall : and in this state it was 
and remains the offspring of God and Sin, or Jupiter and 
Peproach. And, therefore, these three several accounts of 
Pan's birth may seem true, if duly distinguished in respect 
of things and times. For this Pan, or the universal nature 
of things, which we view and contemplate, had its origin 
from the divine word, and confused matter, first created 
by God himself, with the subsequent introduction of sin, and 
consequently corruption. 

The Destinies are justly made Pan's sisters ; for the rise, 
preservation, and dissolution of things ; their depressions, 
exaltations, processes, triumphs, and whatever else can be 
ascribed to individual natures, are called fates and destinies, 
but generally pass unnoticed, except indeed in striking 
examples, as in men, cities, and nations. Pan, or the nature 
of things, is the cause of these several changes and effects, 
and in regard to individuals as the chain of natural 
causes, and the thread of the Destinies, links them together. 
The ancients likewise feigned that Pan ever lived in the 

words. For if there be but one single element or substance identical in 
all its parts, as the primary mover of things, it follows, as this sub- 
stance is equally indifferent to the forms of each of the three elements, 
that one name may attach to it quite as philosophically as the other. 
In strict language, such a substance could not be denned by any of 
these terms ; as fire, air, or water, appear only as its accidental qualities, 
and it is not allowable to define anything whose essential properties 
remain undiscovered. Ed. f Plato's Timseus. 

« Bacon directs his interpretation here to the confused mixture of 
things, as sung by Virgil, Eel. vi. 31. 



102 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK II. 

open air ; but the Parcse or the Destinies in a large sub- 
terraneous cave, from which they emerged with inconceivable 
swiftness, to operate on mankind, because the common face of 
the universe is open ; but the individual fates, dark, swift, and 
sudden. The analogy will also correspond if fate be enlarged 
above its ordinary acceptation as applicable to inanimate 
nature. Since, also, in that order nothing passes without a 
cause, and nothing is so absolutely great as to be indepen- 
dent, nature holding in her lap and bosom every event either 
small or great, and disclosing them in due season, it is, 
therefore, no marvel that the Parcae are introduced as the 
sisters of Pan : for Fortune is the daughter of the foolish 
vulgar, and finds favour only with the more unsound philo- 
sophers. And the words of Epicurus savour less of dotage 
than profanity — " Prsestare credere fabulam Deorum quam 
fatum asserere 11 — as if anything in the frame of nature could, 
like an island, stand apart from the rest. But Epicurus 
framed his natural philosophy on his moral, and would hear 
of no opinion which might press or sting his conscience, or 
in any way trouble that euthymia or tranquillity of mind 
which he had received from Democritus. Hence, being 
more indulgent to his own fancies than patient of truth, he 
fairly cast off the yoke, and abandoned as well the necessity 
of fate as the fear of the gods. 

Horns are given him broad at the roots, but narrow and 
sharp a-top, because the nature of all things seems pyra- 
midal : for individuals are infinite ; but being collected into 
a variety of species, they rise up into kinds ; and these again 
ascend, and are contracted into generals, till at length nature 
may seem collected to a j>oint, which is signified by the 
pyramidal figure of Pan's horns. And no wonder if Pan's 
horns reach to the heavens, since the sublimities of nature, 
or abstract ideas, reach in a manner to things divine. Thus 
Homer's famous chain of natural causes is tied to the foot of 
Jupiter's chain ;* and indeed no one can treat of metaphysics, 
or of the internal and immutable in nature, without rushing 
at once into natural theology. 

Pan's body, or the body of nature, is, with great propriety 
and elegance, painted shaggy and hairy, as representing the 

k Seneca's Epistles. » Iliad, ix. 



CHAP. XIII.] THE FABLE OF PAN INTERPRETED. 103' 

i 

rays of things : for rays are as the hair or fleece of nature, 
and more or less worn by all bodies. This evidently appears 
in vision, and in all effects or operations at a distance : for 
whatever operates thus may be properly said to emit rays. k 
But particularly the beard of Pan is exceeding long, because 
the rays of the celestial bodies j^enetrate, and act to a pro- 
digious distance, and have descended into the interior of the 
earth so far as to change its surface ; l and the sun himself, 
when clouded on its upper part, appears to the eye bearded. 

Again, the body of nature is justly described biform, be- 
cause of the difference between its superior and inferior 
parts ; as the former, for their beauty, regularity of motion, 
and influence over the earth, may be properly represented by 
the human figure, and the latter, because of their disorder, 
irregularity, and subjection to the celestial bodies, are by the 
brutal. This biform figure also represents the participation 
of one species with another, for there appear to be no simple 
natures, but all participate or consist of two : thus man has 
somewhat of the brute, the brute somewhat of the plant, the 
plant somewhat of the mineral ; so that all natural bodies 
have really two faces, or consist of a superior and an inferior 
species. 

There lies a curious allegory in the making of Pan goat- 
footed, on account of the motion of ascent, which the terres- 
trial bodies have towards the air and heavens : for the goat 
is a clambering creature, that delights in climbing up rocks 
and precipices ; and in the same manner the matters des- 
tined to this lower globe strongly affect to rise upwards, as 
appears from the clouds and meteors. And it was not with- 
out reason that Gilbert, who has written a painful and 
elaborate work upon the magnet, doubted whether ponderous 
bodies, after being separated a long distance from the earth, 
do not lose their gravitating tendency towards it. 

k This is always supposed to be the case in vision, the mathematical 
demonstrations in optics proceeding invariably upon the assumption of 
this phenomenon. Ed. 

1 Bacon had no idea of a central fire, and how much it has contri- 
buted to work these interior revolutions. The thermometer of Drebbel, 
which he describes in the second part of the Novum Organum, has 
shown that down to a certain depth beneath the earth's surface the tem- 
perature (in all climates) undergoes no change, and beyond that limit, 
that the heat augments in proportion to the descent. Ed. 



104 ADVANCEIVfENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK IE 

Pan's arms, or the ensigns he bears in his hands, are of 
two kinds ; the one an emblem of harmony, the other of 
empire. His pipe, composed of seven reeds, plainly denotes 
the consent and harmony, or the concords and discords of 
things, produced by the motion of the seven planets. If 
there be other planets yet concealed, or any greater muta- 
tions in the heavens, as in superlunary comets, they seem 
like pipes either altogether united or silent for a time, because 
their influence either does not reach so low as us, or leaves 
uninterrupted the harmony of the seven pipes of Pan. His 
crook also contains a fine representation of the ways of 
nature, which are partly straight and partly crooked : thus the 
staff, having an extraordinary bend towards the top, denotes 
that the works of Divine Providence are generally brought 
about by remote means, or in a circuit, as if somewhat else 
were intended, rather than the effect produced ; as in the 
sending of Joseph into Egypt. So, likewise, in human 
government, they who sit at the helm manage and wind the 
people more successfully by pretext and oblique courses than 
they could by such as are direct and straight ; so that in effect 
all sceptres are crooked on the top. Nay, in things strictly 
natural you may sooner deceive nature than force her, so 
improper and self-convicting are open direct endeavours, 
whereas an oblique and insinuating way gently glides along, 
and secretly accomplishes the purpose. 

Pan's mantle, or clothing, is with great ingenuity made of 
a leopard's skin, because of the spots it has : for, in like 
manner, the heavens are sprinkled with stars, the sea with 
islands, the earth with flowers, and almost each particular 
tiling is variegated, or wears a mottled coat. 

The office of Pan could not be more livelily expressed 
than by making him the god of hunters : for every natural 
action, every motion and process, is no other than a chase ; 
thus arts and sciences hunt out their works, and human 
schemes and counsels their several ends, and all living crea- 
tures either hunt out their aliment, pursue their prey, or 
seek their pleasures, and this in a skilful and sagacious man- 
ner. 111 He is also styled the god of the rural inhabitants, 

m " Torva l&ena lupum sequitur, lupus ipse capellam : 
Florentem cytisurn sequitur lasciva capella." 

Virgil, Eel. ii. 63. 



CHAP. XIII.] THE FABLE OF PAN INTERPRETED. 105 

because men in this situation live more according to nature 
than they do in cities and courts, where nature is so corrupted 
with effeminate arts, that the saying of the poet may be 
verified : — 

" pars minima est ipsa puella sui." n 

He is likewise particularly styled president of the moun- 
tains, because in mountains and lofty places the nature of 
things lies more open and exposed to the eye and the under- 
standing. 

In his being called the messenger of the gods, next after 
Mercury, lies a divine allegory ; as, next after the word of 
God, the image of the world is the herald of the divine 
power and wisdom, according to the expression of the 
Psalmist : u The heavens declare the glory of God, and the 
firmament showeth his handy-work." 

Pan is delighted with the company of the Nymphs : that 
is, the souls of all living creatures are the delight of the 
world, and he is properly called their governor, because each of 
them follows its own nature as a leader, and all dance about 
their own respective rings with infinite variety and never- 
ceasing motion. Hence one of the moderns has ingeniously 
reduced all the power of the soul to motion, noting the pre- 
cipitancy of some of the ancients, who, fixing their thoughts 
prematurely on memory, imagination, and reason, have 
neglected the cogitative faculty, which, however, plays the 
chief role in the work of conception. For he that remembers, 
cogitates, as likewise he who fancies or reasons ; so that the 
soul of man in all her moods dances to the musical airs of the 
cogitations, which is that rebounding of the Nymphs. And 
with these continually join the Satyrs and Sileni, that is, 
youth and age ; for all things have a kind of young, cheerful, 
and dancing time ; and again their time of slowness, totter- 
ing, and creeping. And whoever, in a true light, considers 
the motions and endeavours of both these ages, like another 
Democritus, will perhaps find them as odd and strange as 
the gesticulations and antic motions of the Satyrs and 
Sileni. 

The power he had of striking terrors contains a very sen- 
sible doctrine, for nature has implanted fear in all living, 

n Ovid, Rem. Amoris, v. 343. Mart. Epist. ° Psalm xix. 1. . 



106 ADVANCEMENT OF LEAENING. [BOOK II. 

creatures, as well to keep them from risking their lives as to 
guard against injuries and violence ; and yet this nature or 
passion keeps not its bounds, but with just and profitable 
fears always mixes such as are vain and senseless : so that all 
things, if we could see their insides, would appear full of 
panic terrors. Nor is this superstition confined to the vulgar, 
but sometimes breaks out in wise men. As Epicurus, " Non 
Deos vulgi negare profanum ; sed vulgi opiniones Diis 
applicare profanum. " p 

The presumption of Pan in challenging Cupid to the con- 
flict, denotes that matter has an appetite and tendency to a 
dissolution of the world, and falling back to its first chaos 
again, unless this depravity and inclination were restrained 
and subdued by a more powerful concord and agreement of 
things, properly expressed by love or Cupid ; it is therefore 
well for mankind, and the state of all things, that Pan was 
thrown and conquered in the struggle. 

His catching and detaining Typhon in the net receives a 
similar explanation ; for whatever vast aud unusual swells, 
which the word Typhon signifies, may sometimes be raised 
in nature, as in the sea, the clouds, the earth, or the like ; 
yet nature catches, entangles, and holds all such outrages and 
insurrections in her inextricable net, wove as it were of 
adamant. 

That part of the fable which attributes the discovery of 
lost Ceres to Pan, whilst he was hunting, a happiness denied 
the other gods, though they diligently and expressly sought 
her, contains an exceeding just and prudent admonition; viz. 
that we are not to expect the discovery of things useful in 
common life, as that of corn, denoted by Ceres, from abstract 
philosophies, as if these were the gods of the first order, — no, 
not though we used our utmost endeavours this way, — but 
only from Pan, that is, a sagacious experience and general 
knowledge of nature, which is often found, even by accident, 
to stumble upon such discoveries, whilst the pursuit was 
directed another way. 

The event of his contending with Apollo in music, affords 
us an useful instruction, that may help to humble the human 
reason and judgment, which is too apt to boast and glory in 
itself. There seem to be two kinds of harmony ; the one of 
Divine Providence, the other of human reason : but the 
p Laertius's Life of Epicurus. 



CHAP. XIII.] THE FABLE OF PAS INTERPRETED. 107 

government of the world, the administration of its affairs, 
and the more secret divine judgments, sound harsh and 
dissonant to human ears or human judgment ; and though 
this ignorance be justly rewarded with ass's ears, vet they 
are put on and worn, not openly, but with great secrecy ; 
nor is the deformity of the thing seen or observed by the 
vulgar. 

We must not find it strange if no amours are related of 
Pan, besides his marriage with Echo ; for nature enjoys 
itself, and in itself all other things : he that loves, desires 
enjoyment ; but in profusion there is no room for desire ; 
and therefore Pan, remaining content with himself, had no 
passion, unless it be for discourse, which is well shadowed out 
by Echo, or talk ; or when it is more accurate, by Syrinx, or 
writing. ^ But Echo makes a most excellent wife for Pan, 
as being no other than genuine philosophy, which faithfully 
repeats his words, or only transcribes exactly as nature dic- 
tates ; thus representing the true image and reflection of the 
world, without adding a tittle. The calling the moon aside 
into a deeply einbrowned wood, seems to refer to the conven- 
tion between the sense and spiritual things. For tire ear of 
Endymion and Pan are different, the moon of her own 
accord in the latter case stooping down from her sphere as 
Endymion lay asleep, intimating that divine illuminations oft 
glide gently into the understanding, cast asleep and withdrawn 
from the senses. But if they be called by sense, representing 
Pan, they afford no other light than that 

" Quale, per incertam lunam, sub luce maligna, 
Est iter in sylvis." r 

It tends also to the support and perfection of Pan or 
nature, to be without offspring ; for the world generates in its 
parts, and not in the way of a whole, as wanting a body ex- 
ternal to itself wherewith to generate. 

Lastly, for the supposed or spurious prattling daughter of 
Pan, it is an excellent addition to the fable, and aptly re- 
presents the talkative philosophies that have at all times 
been stirring, and filled the world with idle tales ; being 
ever barren, empty, and servile, though sometimes indeed 
diverting and entertaining, and sometimes again troublesome 
and importunate. 

♦ Syrinx signifying a reed, or the ancient pen. r iEneid, vi. 27 0» 



108 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [eOOK IL 



PERSEUS/ OR WAR. 

Explained of the Preparation and Conduct necessary to War. 

"The fable relates, that Perseus was despatched from the 
east by Pallas, to cut off Medusa's head, who had committed 
great ravage upon the people of the west ; for this Medusa 
was so dire a monster, as to turn into stone all those who but 
looked upon her. She was a Gorgon, and the only mortal one ot 
the three ; the other two being invulnerable. Perseus, there- 
fore, preparing himself for this grand enterprise, had presents 
made him from three of the gods : Mercury gave him wings 
for his heels ; Pluto, a helmet ; and Pallas, a shield and a 
mirror. But though he was now so well equipped, he posted 
not directly to Medusa, but first turned aside to the Grea?, 
who were half-sisters to the Gorgon s. These Greae were gray- 
beaded, and like old women from their birth, having among 
them all three but one eye, and one tooth, which, as they had 
occasion to go out, they each wore by turns, and laid them 
down again upon coming back. This eye and this tooth they 
lent to Perseus, who, now judging himself sufficiently fur- 
nished, he, without farther stop, flies swiftly away to Medusa, 
and finds her asleep. But not venturing his eyes, for fear 
she should wake, he turned his head aside, and viewed her in 
Pallas's mirror, and thus directing his stroke, cut off her head ; 
when immediately, from the gushing blood, there darted 
Pegasus winged. Perseus now inserted Medusa's head into 
Pallas's shield, which thence retained the faculty of astonish- 
ing and benumbing all who looked on it." 

Tins fable seems invented to show the prudent method ot 
choosing, undertaking, and conducting a war. The chief thing 
to consider in undertaking war is a commission from Pallas > 
certainly not from Venus, as the Trojan war was, or other 
slight motive. . Because the designs of war ought to be jus- 
tified by wise counsels. As to the choice of war, the fable 
propounds three grave and useful precepts. 

The first is, that no prince should be over- solicitous to 
subdue a neighbouring nation : for the method of enlarging 
an empire is very different from that of increasing an estate. 
Begard is justly had to contiguity or adjacency in private 
lands and possessions ; but in the extending of empire, the 

a Ovid, Metam. iv. 



CHAP. XIII.] THE FABLE OF PERSEUS INTERPRETED. 100 

occasion, the facility, and advantage of a war, are to be re- 
garded instead of vicinity. Thus Perseus, though an eastern 
prince, readily undertook an expedition into the remotest 
parts of the western world. An opposite instance of the 
wisdom of this precept occurs in the different strategy of 
war practised by Philijj and Alexander. For Philip urged 
war only on the frontiers of Iris empire, and with great strife 
and peril barely succeeded in bringing a few cities under his 
rule, but Alexander carried his invading arms into distant 
countries; and with a felicitous boldness undertook an ex- 
pedition against Persia, and subduing multitudinous nations 
on liis journey, rested at last rather fatigued with conquest 
than with arms. This policy is further borne out by the 
propagation of the Roman power ; for at the time that the 
arms of this martial people on the side of the west stretched 
no further than Liguria, they had brought under their 
dominion all the provinces of the East as far as Mount 
Taurus. In like manner, Charles the Eighth, finding a war 
with Great Britain attended with some dangers, directed his 
enterprise against Naples, which he subdued with wonderful 
rapidity and ease. One of the causes of these wonderful 
successes in distant wars, is the low state of discipline and 
equipment, which invites the attack of the invading power, 
and the terror which is generally struck into the enemy from 
the bold audacity of the enterprise. Nor can the enemy 
retaliate or effect any reciprocal invasion, which always re- 
sults from a war waged with the frontier nations. But the 
chief point is, that in subduing a neighbouring state the 
choice of stratagems is narrowed by circumstances ; but in a 
distant expedition, a man may roll the tide of war where 
the military discipline is most relaxed, or where the strength 
of the nation is most torn and wasted by civil discord, or in 
whatever part the enemy can be the most easily subjugated. 
The second precept is, that the cause of the war be just 
and honourable; for this adds alacrity both to the soldiers 
and the people who find the supplies, procures aids, al- 
liances, and numerous other conveniences. Now, there is 
no cause of war more just and laudable than the suppressing 
of tyranny, by which a people are dispirited, benumbed, or 
left without life and vigour, as at the sight of Medusa. Such 
heroic acts transformed Hercules into a divinity. It was 
undoubtedly a point of religion with the Itomans to aid with 



110 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK II. 

valour and speed such of their allies and confederates as 
were in any way distressed. So just and vindictive wars 
have generally met with success ; as the war of the triumvi- 
rate in revenge for the death of Caesar, the war of Severus 
for the death of Pertinax, and of Junius Brutus for the 
death of Lucretia ; for they who take up arms to relieve and 
revenge the calamities of men fight under the standard of 
Perseus. 

Lastly, it is prudently added, that as there were three of 
the Gorgons who represent war, Perseus singled her out for 
his expedition that was mortal ; which affords this precept, 
that such kind of wars should be chosen as may be brought 
to a conclusion without pursuing vast and infinite hopes. 

Again, Perseus's setting out is extremely well adapted to 
his undertaking, and in a manner commands success, — he 
received despatch from Mercury, secrecy from Pluto, and 
foresight from Pallas. It also contains an excellent alle- 
gory, that the wings given him by Mercury were for liis 
heels, not for his shoulders, because expedition is not so 
much required in the first preparations for war as in the 
subsequent matters that administer to the first ; for there is 
no error more frequent in war than, after brisk preparations, 
to halt for subsidiary forces and effective supplies. 

The allegory of Pluto's helmet rendering men invisible 
and secret, is sufficiently evident of itself; for secretness 
appertains to celerity, inasmuch as speed prevents the dis- 
closure of counsels : it therefore succeeds in importance. 
Pluto's helmet also seems to imply, that authority over the 
army is to be lodged in one chief; as directing committees 
in such cases are too apt to scatter dissensions among the 
troops, and to be swayed by paltry freaks and jealousies 
rather than by patriotism. It is not of less importance to dis- 
cover the designs of the enemy, for which purpose the mirror 
of Pallas must be joined to the helmet of Pluto to disclose 
the weakness, the divisions, counsels, spies, and factions of 
the enemy. But as these arms are not sufficient to cope 
with all the casualties of war, we must grasp the shield of 
Pallas, i.e. of Providence, as a defence from the caprices of 
fortune. To this belong the despatch of spies, the fortifica- 
tion of camps, the equipment and position of the army, and 
whatever tends to promote the success of a just defensive 



CHAP. XIII.] THE FABLE OF PERSEUS INTERPRETED. Ill 

war. For in the issue of contests the shield of Pallas is of 
greater consequence than the sword of Mars. 

But though Perseus may now seem extremely well pre- 
pared, there still remains the most iniportant thing of all, — 
before he enters upon the war he must of necessity consult 
the Greae. These Greae are treasons, half but degenerate 
sisters of the Gorgons, who are representatives of wars ; for 
wars are generous and noble, but treasons base and vile. 
The Greae are elegantly described as hoary-headed, and like 
old women from their birth, on account of the perpetual 
cares, fears, and trepidations attending traitors. Their force 
also, before it breaks out into open revolt, consists either in 
an eye or a tooth; for all faction alienated from a state is 
both watchful and biting, and this eye and tooth is as it 
were common to all the disaffected, because whatever they 
learn and know is transmitted from one to another, as by 
the hands of faction. And for the tooth they all bite with 
the same, and clamour with one throat, so that each of them 
singly expresses the multitude. 

These Greae, therefore, must be prevailed upon by Perseus 
to lend him their eye and their tooth, — the eye to give 
him indications and make discoveries, the tooth for sowing 
rumours, raising envy, and stirring up the minds of the 
people. And when all these things are thus disposed and 
prepared, then follows the action of the war. 

He finds Medusa asleep ; for whoever undertakes a war 
with prudence generally falls upon the enemy unprepared, 
and nearly in a state of security ; and here is the occasion 
for Pallas's mirror, for it is common enough, before the 
danger presents, to see exactly into the state and posture of 
the enemy; but the principal use of the glass is in the very 
instant of danger, to discover the manner thereof and pre- 
vent consternation, which is the thing intended by Per- 
seus' s turning his head aside and viewing the enemy in the 
glass. b 

Two effects here follow the conquest, — 1. The darting 
forth of Pegasus, which evidently denotes fame, that flies 
abroad, proclaiming the victory far and near. 2. The bear- 

b Thus it is the excellence of a general early to discover what turn 
the battle is likely to take, and looking prudently behind, as well as 
before, to pursue a victory so as not to be unprovided for a retreat. 



112 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK II. 

ing of Medusa's head in the shield, which is the greatest 
possible defence and safeguard; for one grand and memorable 
enterprise, happily accomplished, bridles all the motions and 
attempts of the enemy, stupines disaffection, and quells 
commotions. 



DIONYSUS, OB BACCHUS. a 

Explained of the Passions. 

" The fable runs, that Semele, Jupiter's mistress, having 
bound him by an inviolable oath to grant her an unknown 
request, desired he would embrace her in the same form and 
manner he used to embrace Juno ; and the promise being 
irrevocable, she was burnt to death with lightning in the 
performance. The embryo, however, was sewed up, and 
carried in Jupiter's thigh, till the complete time of its birth ; 
l)ut the burden thus rendering the father lame, and giving 
him pain, the child was thence called Dionysus. When born, 
he was committed for some years to be nursed by Proser- 
pina j and when grown up, appeared with such an effeminate 
face, that his sex seemed somewhat doubtful. He also died 
and was buried for a time, but afterwards revived. When a 
youth, he first introduced the cultivation and dressing of 
vines, the method of preparing wine, and taught the use 
-thereof; whence becoming famous, he subdued the world, 
even to the utmost bounds of the Indies. He rode in a 
chariot drawn by tigers : there danced about him certain 
deformed demons called Cobali, <fcc.; the Muses also joined 
in his train. He married Ariadne, who was deserted by 
Theseus. The ivy was sacred to him. He was also held the 
inventor and institutor of religious rites and ceremonies, 
but such as were wild, frantic, and full of corruption and 
cruelty. He had also the power of striking men with frenzies. 
Pentheus and Orpheus were torn to pieces by the frantic 
women at his orgies, the first for climbing a tree to behold 
their outrageous ceremonies, and the other for the music of 
his harp. But the acts of this god are much entangled and 
confounded with those of Jupiter." 

This fable seems to contain a little system of morality, so 
that there is scarce any better invention in all ethics. Un- 

n Ovid's Metamorphoses, iii, iv. and vi. ; and Fasti, iii. 767. 



; 



CHAP. XIII.] THE FABLE OF BACCHUS INTERPRETED. 113 

der the history of Bacchus is drawn the nature of unlawful 
desire, or affection and disorder; for the appetite and thirst 
of apparent good is the mother of all unlawful desire, though 
ever so destructive; and all unlawful desires are conceived 
in unlawful wishes or requests, rashly indulged or granted 
before they are well understood or considered ; and when the 
affection begins to grow warm, the mother of it (the nature 
of good) is destroyed and burnt up by the heat. And whilst 
an unlawful desire lies in the embryo, or un ripened in the 
mind, which is its father, and here represented by Jupiter, it 
is cherished and concealed, especially in the inferior part of 
the mind, corresponding to the thigh of the body, where pain 
twitches and depresses the mind so far as to render its reso- 
lutions and actions imperfect and lame. And even after this 
child of the mind is confirmed, and gains strength by con- 
sent and habit, and comes forth into action, it must still be 
nursed by Proserpina for a time ; that is, • it skulks and 
liides its head in a clandestine manner, as it were under- 
ground, till at length, when the checks of shame and fear are 
removed, and the requisite boldness acquired, it either as- 
sumes the pretext of some virtue, or openly despises infamy. 
And it is justly observed, that every vehement passion ap- 
pears of a doubtful sex, as having the strength of a man at 
first, but at last the impotence of a woman. It is also excel- 
lently added, that Bacchus died and rose again ; for the affec- 
tions sometimes seem to die and be no more ; but there is no 
trusting them, even though they were buried, being always 
apt and ready to rise again whenever the occasion or object 
offers. 

That Bacchus should be the inventor of wine carries a fine 
allegory with it; for every affection is cunning and subtile 
in discovering a proper matter to nourish and feed it ; and 
of all things known to mortals, wine is the most powerful 
and effectual for exciting and inflaming passions of all kinds, 
being indeed like a common fuel to them all. 

It is again with great elegance observed of Bacchus, that 
he subdued provinces and undertook endless expeditions ; for 
the affections never rest satisfied with what they enjoy, but 
with an endless and insatiable appetite thirst after somewhat 
further. And tigers are prettily feigned to draw the chariot ; 
for as soon as any affection shall, from going on foot, be ad* 
2 . i ' 



114 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK II. 

vanced to ride, it triumphs over reason, and exerts its cruelty, 
fierceness, and strength against all that oppose it. 

It is also humorously imagined, that ridiculous demons 
should dance and frisk about this chariot; for every passion 
produces indecent, disorderly, interchangeable, and deformed 
motions in the eyes, countenance, and gesture, — so that the 
person under the impulse whether of anger, insult, love, &c., 
though to himself he may seem grand, lofty, or obliging, 
yet in the eyes of others appears mean^ contemptible, or 
ridiculous. 

The Muses also are found in the train of Bacchus; for 
there is scarce any passion without its art, science, or doc- 
trine to court and flatter it ; but in this respect the in- 
dulgence of men of genius has greatly detracted from the 
majesty of the Muses, who ought to be the leaders and 
conductors of human life, and not the handmaids of the 
passions. 

The allegory of Bacchus falling in love with a cast mis- 
tress is extremely noble ; for it is certain that the affections 
always court and covet what has been rejected upon expe- 
rience. And all those who, by serving and indulging their 
passions immensely raise the value of enjoyment, should' 
know, that whatever they covet and pursue, whether riches, 
pleasure, glory, learning, or anything else, they only pursue 
those things that have been forsaken, and cast off with con- 
tempt by great numbers in all ages, after possession and 
experience. 

Nor is it without a mystery that the ivy was sacred to 
Bacchus ; and this for two reasons, — First, because ivy is an 
evergreen, or flourishes in the winter; and, secondly, be- 
cause it winds and creeps about so many things, as trees, 
walls, and buildings, and raises itself above them. As to the 
first, every passion grows fresh, strong, and vigorous by 
opposition and prohibition, as it were by a kind of contrast 
or antiperistasis, b like the ivy in the winter. And for the 

b The word avriiripiaracnQ, used by the Greeks to express the forces 
of activity and resistance, which are continually producing all the varie- 
gated tissue of phenomena which mark the history of the moral and 
physical world, and are necessary to their preservation. Without reac- 
tion, action could not take place, as force can be only displayed in 
overcoming resistance, and we can have no idea of its existence except 
from its effect upon the antagonistic force it attempts to subdue. In 



CHAP. XIII.] THE FABLE OF BACCHUS INTERPRETED. 115 

second, the predominant passion of the mind throws itself, 
like the ivy, round all human actions, entwines all our reso- 
lutions, and perpetually adheres to and mixes itself in, among, 
or even overtops them. 

And no wonder that superstitious rites and ceremonies 
are attributed to Bacchus, when almost every ungovernable 
passion grows wanton and luxuriant in corrupt religions; 
nor again, that fury and frenzy should be sent and dealt out 
by him, because every passion is a short frenzy, and if it be 
vehement, lasting, and take deep root, it terminates in mad- 
ness. And hence the allegory of Pentheus and Orpheus 
being torn to pieces is evident ; for every headstrong passion 
is extremely bitter, severe, inveterate, and revengeful upon 
all curious inquiry, wholesome admonition, free counsel and 
persuasion. 

Lastly, the confusion between the persons of Jupiter and 
Bacchus will justly admit of an allegory, because noble and 
meritorious actions may sometimes proceed from virtue, 
sound reason, and magnanimity, and sometimes again from 
a concealed passion and secret desire of ill, however they 
may be extolled and praised ; insomuch that it is not easy to 
distinguish betwixt the acts of Bacchus and the acts of 
Jupiter. 

But perhaps we remain too long in the theatre, — it is 
time we should advance to the palace of the mind. 

mechanics, Newton has observed that reaction is always equal to action, 
and we may observe a similar principle in the antiperistasis of the 
moral world. The reactions in communities and individuals against any 
dominant principle are generally marked with excesses proportionally 
antagonistic to the fashions over which they prevail ; and though no 
precise certainty can be acquired in the interpretation of phenomena 
connected with the human will, yet we think a vast amount of proximate 
truth might be elicited, and a flood of light thrown upon the springs of 
our spiritual nature by a philosophic attempt to generalize such move- 
ments and connect them with the higher laws of our mental constitu- 
tion. Physically speaking, the force of the body resisting only augments 
the effect of the force which endeavours to conquer it ; while in the 
moral world it increases both the effect and the power, as resistance 
irritates the assailing force and consequently excites it to redouble its 
efforts : hence may be seen the wisdom of that Providence who has 
hidden the springs of the universe from ocular vision to sharpen man's 
faculties in their discovery, and who ordinarily surrounds the course of 
genius with difficulties, in order that it may burst through them with 
purer flame. Ed. 

i2 



ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK III. 

THIED BOOK. 



CHAPTER I. 

Division of Learning into Theology and Philosophy. The latter 1 divided 
into the Knowledge of God. of Nature, and of Man. Construction 
of Philosophia Prima as the Mother of all the Sciences. 

TO THE KING. 

All history, excellent king, treads the earth, performing 
the office of a guide rather than of a light : and poetry is, as 
it were, the stream of knowledge, — a pleasing thing full of 
variations, and affects to be inspired with divine rapture, to 
which treasures also pretend. But now it is time I should 
awake and raise myself from the earth, and explore the 
liquid regions of philosophy and the sciences. Knowledge 
is like waters ; some descend from the heavens, some sj)ring 
from the earth. For all knowledge proceeds from a twofold 
source, — either from divine inspiration or external sense. As 
for that knowledge which is infused by instruction, that is 
cumulative, not original, as it is in waters, which, besides the 
head-springs, are increased by the reception of other rivers 
which fall into them. We shall, therefore, divide sciences into 
theology and philosophy. In the former we do not include 
natural theology, of which we are to speak anon, but 
restrict ourselves to inspired divinity, the treatment of which 
we reserve for the close of the work, as the fruit and sabbath 
of all human contemplations. Philosophy has three objects ; 
viz., God, nature, and man ; as also three kinds of rays — for 
nature strikes the human intellect with a direct ray, God 
with a refracted ray, from the inequality of the medium 
betwixt the Creator and the creatures, and man, as exhibited 
to himself, with a reflected ray : whence it is proper to 
divide philosophy into the doctrine of the deity, the doctrine 
of nature, and the doctrine of man. 

But as the divisions of the sciences are not like different 
lines that meet in one angle, but rather like the branches of 
trees that join in one trunk, a it is first necessary that we con- 

a This observation is the foundation of Father Castel's late piece De 
Mathematique Universelle, wherein, by the help of sensible representa- 



CHAP. I.] AXIOMS OF PRIMARY PHILOSOPHY. 117 

stitute an universal science as a parent to the rest, and as 
making a part of the common road to the sciences before the 
ways separate. And this knowledge we call " philosophia 
prima," primitive or primative or summary philosophy ; it has 
no other for its opposite, and differs from other sciences 
rather in the limits whereby it is confined than in the sub- 
ject as treating only the summits of things. And whether 
this should be noted as wanting may seem doubtful, though 
I rather incline to note it ; for I find a certain rhapsody of 
natural theology, logics, and physics, delivered in a certain 
sublimity of discourse, by such as aim at being admired for 
standing on the pinnacles of the sciences ; but what we mean 
is, without ambition, to design some general science, for the 
reception of axioms, not peculiar to any one science, but 
common to a number of them. 

Axioms of this kind are numerous ; for example, if equals 
be added to un equals, the wholes will be unequal. This is a 
rule in mathematics, which holds also in ethics, with regard 
to distributive justice. For in commutative justice, equity 
requires, that equal portions be given to unequal persons ; 
but in distributive justice, that unequal portions should be 
distributed to unequals. Things agreeing to the same third, 
agree also with one another : this, likewise, is an axiom in 
mathematics, and, at the same time, so serviceable in logic as 
to be the foundation of syllogism. b Nature shows herself best 
in her smallest works. This is a rule in philosophy, that 
produced the atoms of Democritus, and was justly employed 
by Aristotle in politics, when he begins the consideration ot 
a commonwealth in a family. All things change, but nothing 
is lost. c This is an axiom in physics, and holds in natural 
theology ; for as the sum of matter neither diminishes nor 
increases, so it is equally the work of omnipotence to create 
or to annihilate it, which even the Scripture testifies : u Didici 
quod omnia opera, quad fecit Deus, perseverent in perpetuum : 
non possumus eis quicquam addere, nee auferre." d Tilings 
are preserved from destruction, by bringing them back to 
their principles. This is an axiom in physics, but holds 

tions and divisions, he proposes to teach the sciences readily, and even 
abstract mathematics, to common capacities. Shaw. 

b Whately's Logic, ii. 3, § 1. c Cf. Plat. Theoet. i. 152. 

* Eccl. iii. 14, and xlii. 21. 



118 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK III. 

equally in politics ; for the preservation of states, as is well 
observed by Machiavel, e depends upon little more than 
reforming and bringing them back to their ancient customs. 
A putrid malady is more contagious in its early than in its 
more matured stages, holds in natural as in moral philosophy ; 
for wicked and desperately impious persons do not corrupt 
society so much as they who blend with their vices a mix- 
ture of virtue. What tends to preserve the effects of the 
greatest laws of nature, displays the strongest action, is a 
rule in natural philosophy. For the first and universal 
motion, that preserves the chain and contexture of nature 
unbroken, and prevents a vacuum, as they call it, or empty 
discontinuity in the world, controls the more particular law 
which draws heavy bodies to the earth, and preserves the 
region of gross and compacted natures. The same rule is 
good in politics ; for those things which conduce to the con- 
servation of the entire commonwealth, control and modify 
those made for the welfare of particular members of a 
government. The same principle may be observed in theo- 
logy; for, among the virtues of this class, charity is the 
most communicative, and excels all the rest. The force of 
an agent is augmented by the antiperistatis of the counter- 
acting body/ is a rule in civil states as in nature, for all fac- 
tion is vehemently moved and incensed at the rising of a 
contrary faction. 

A discord ending immediately in a concord sets off the har- 
mony. This is a rule in music that holds also true in morals. 
A trembling sound in music gives the same pleasure to the 
ear, as the coruscation of water or the sparkling of a dia- 
mond to the eye, — 

" splendet trerrmlo sub lumine pontus." s 

The organs of the senses resemble the organs of reflection, 
as we see in optics and acoustics, where a concave glass re- 
.sembles the eye, and a sounding cavity the ear. And of 
these axioms an infinite number might be collected ; and 
thus the celebrated Persian magic was, in effect, no more 
than a notation of the correspondence in the structure and 
fabric of things natural and civil. Nor let any one under- 

e Discorso sopra la Prima Deca di Tito Livio, libro 3. 

f Aristotle, Meteors, Problem 1, § 11. s Mneid, vii. 9. 



CHAP. I.] PRIMARY PHILOSOPHY DEFICIENT. 119 

stand all this of mere similitudes, as they might at first ap- 
pear, for they really are one and the same footsteps, and 
impressions of nature, made upon different matters and sub- 
jects. And* in this light the tiling lias not hitherto been 
carefully treated. A few of these axioms may indeed be 
found in the writings of eminent men, here and there in- 
terspersed occasionally ; but a collected body of them, which 
should have a primitive and summary tendency to the sci- 
ences, is not hitherto extant, though a thing of so great 
moment as remarkable to show nature to be one and the 
same, which is supposed the office of a primary philosophy. 

There is another part of this primary philosophy regarding 
the adventitious or transcendental condition of tilings ; as little, 
much, like, different, possible, impossible, entity, nonentity, 
&c. For as these things do not properly come under physics, 
and as their logical consideration rather accommodates them 
to argumentation than existence, it is proper that this point 
be not quite deserted, as being of considerable dignity and 
use, so as to have some place in the arrangement of the 
sciences. But this should be done in a manner very different 
from the common : for example, no writer who has treated 
of much and little, endeavours to assign the cause why some 
things in nature are so numerous and large, and others so 
rare and small ; for, doubtless, it is impossible in the nature 
of things, that there should be as great a quantity of gold as 
of iron, or roses as plenty as grass, and as great a variety 
of specific as of imperfect or non-specific nature. 11 So, like- 
wise, nobody that treats of like and different has sufficiently 
explained, why betwixt particular species there are almost 
constantly interposed some things that partake of both ; as 
moss 1 betwixt corruption and a plant ; motionless fish be- 
twixt a plant and an animal ; bats betwixt birds and quad- 
rupeds, <fcc. Nor has any one hitherto discovered why iron 
does not attract iron, as the loadstone does : and why gold 
does not attract gold, as quicksilver does, kc. But of these 

h Specific bodies ; that is, those which have a certain homogeneous 
form and regularity in their organization, and which exist in such variety 
as to urge the mind to form them into species. Ed. 

5 By the aid of the microscope, moss has been discovered to be only a 
collection of small plants, with parts as distinct and regular in their con- 
formation as the larger plants. The vervain which generally covers 
the surface of moist bodies long exposed to the air presents similar 
appearances. Ed, 



120 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK III. 

particulars we find no mention in the discourses of trans- 
cendentals ; for men have rather pursued the quirks of words 
than the subtilities of things. And, therefore, we would 
introduce into primary philosophy a real and solid inquiry 
into these transcendentals, or adventitious conditions of 
beings, according to the laws of nature, not of speech. 



CHAPTER II. 

Natural Theology with its Appendix, the Knowledge of Angels and 

Spirits. 

Thus having first seated the common parent of the sci- 
ences, as Berecynthia rejoicing over her celestial offspring, — 

" Omnes coelicolas, omnes supera alta tenentes," a — 

we return to our division of philosophy into divine, natural, 
and human ; for natural theology may be justly called 
divine philosophy. Divine philosophy is a science, or rather 
the rudiments of a science, derivable from God by the light 
of nature, and the contemplation of his creatures ; so that 
with regard to its object, it is truly divine ; but with regard 
to its acquirement, natural. The bounds of this knowledge 
extend to the confutation of atheism, and the ascertaining 
the laws of nature, but not to the establishing of religion. 
And, therefore, God never wrought a miracle to convert an 
atheist, because the light of nature is sufficient to demon- 
strate a deity ; but miracles were designed for the conver- 
sion of the idolatrous and superstitious, who acknowledged a 
God, but erred in their worship of him — the light of nature 
being unable to declare the will of God, or assign the just 
form of worshipping him. For as the power and skill of a 
workman are seen in his works, but not his person, so the 
works of God express the wisdom and omnipotence of the 
Creator, without the least representation of his image. And 
in this particular, the opinion of the heathens differed from 
the sacred verity, as supposing the world to be the image of 
God, and man a little image of the world. The Scripture 
never gives the world that honour, but calls it the work of 
his hands; making only man the image of God. b And, there- 
lore, the being of a God, that he governs the world, that he 
a ^Eneid, vi. 787. b Ps. viii. 3, cii. 25, et al. 



CHAP. II.] NATURAL THEOLOGY. 121 

is all-powerful, wise, prescient, good, a just rewarder and 
punisher, and to be adored, may be shown and enforced from 
his works ; and many other wonderful secrets, with regard to 
his attributes, and much more as to his dispensation and 
government over the universe, may also be solidly deduced, 
and made appear from the same. And this subject has been 
usefully treated by several. 

But from the contemplation of nature, and the principles of 
human reason, to dispute or urge anything with vehemence, 
as to the mysteries of faith, or over-curiously to examine and 
sift them, by prying into the manner of the mystery, is no 
safe thing : " Give unto faith the things that are faith's." 
And the heathens grant as much in that excellent and divine 
fable of the golden chain, where " men and gods are repre- 
sented as unable to draw Jupiter to earth, but Jupiter able 
to draw them up to heaven." 11 So that it is a vain attempt 
to draw down the sublime mysteries of religion to our 
reason, but we should rather raise our minds to the adorable 
throne of heavenly truth. And in this part of natural 
theology, we find rather an excess than any defect ; which 
we have however turned a little aside to note, on account of 
the extreme prejudice and danger which both religion and 
philosophy hence incur, because a mixture of these makes 
both an heretical religion and a fantastic and superstitious 
philosophy. e 

It is otherwise, as to the nature of spirits and angels ; 
this being neither unsearchable nor forbid, but in a great 
part level to the human mind, on account of their affinity,. 
We are, indeed, forbid in Scripture to worship angels, or to 
entertain fantastical opinions of them, f so as to exalt them 

c And more particularly since, by Cudworth, in his " Intellectual 
System of the Universe ; " Mr. Boyle, in his " Christian Virtuoso;" 
Mr. Ray, in his " Wisdom of the Creation ;" Dr. Bentley, iu his " Dis- 
course of the Folly and Unreasonableness of Atheism ;" Dr. Clarke, in 
his "Demonstration of the Being and Attributes of God;" and by 
Derham, in his "Physico-Theology." See also Raphson's ■'•' De Deo;" 
Dr. Nieuwentyt's "Religious Philosopher;" Mr. Winston's "Astrono- 
mical Principles of Religion ;" Commenius's " Physicse ad lumen divi- 
num reformats Synopsis;" Paley's "Natural Religion;" the Bridge- 
water Treatises, and Cardinal Wiseman's " Connection of Science with 
Revealed Religion." Ed. d Iliad, ix. 

e See above,- Prelim, sec. iii. 8, and hereafter of Theology, sec. ult. 
, f St. Paul, Coloss. ii. 5, 18, 



122 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK III. 

above the degree of creatures, or to think of them higher 
than we have reason ; but the sober inquiry about them, 
which either ascends to a knowledge of their nature by the 
scale of corporeal beings, or views them in the nrind^ as in a 
glass, is by no means forbid. The same is to be understood 
of revolted or unclean spirits : conversation with them, or 
using their assistance, is unlawful ; and much more in any 
manner to worship or adore them : but the contemplation 
and knowledge of their nature, power, and illusions, appears 
from Scripture, reason, and experience, to be no small part 
of spiritual wisdom. Thus says the apostle, " Strategematum 
ejus non ignari sumus."s And thus it is as lawful in natural 
theology to investigate the nature of evil spirits, as the 
nature of poisons in physics, or the nature of vice in morality. 
But this part of knowledge relating to angels and spirits, 
which we call the appendage to natural theology, cannot be 
noted for deficient, as having been handled by many ; but we 
may justly tax no small part of the writers in this way, 
either with levity, superstition, or fruitless speculation. 



CHAPTEE III. 

Natural Philosophy divided into Speculative and Practical. The Neces- 
sity ot keeping these Two Branches distinct. 

But to leave natural theology, and proceed to natural 
philosophy ; as it was well said by Democritus, that " the 
knowledge of nature lies concealed in deep mines and caves;" 11 
and by the alchemists, that "Vulcan is a second nature, imi- 
tating concisely what the first takes time and circuit to 
effect ;" b suppose natural philosophy were divided, as it 
regards the mine and the furnace, and two offices of phi- 
losophers, miners and smelters introduced 1 This, indeed; 
may appear jocular, yet such a kind of division we judge 
^extremely useful, when proposed in just and familiar terms ; 
so that the doctrine of nature be divided into speculative and 
practical, or the search after causes, and the production of 
effects : the one entering into the bowels of nature, and the 
other forming her upon the anvil. Nor are we insensible of 

s 2 Cor. ii. 11. a Laertius, Life of Seneca. 

b Paracelsus de Philos. Sagac. 



CHAP. IV.] DIVISION OF NATURAL PHILOSOPHY. 123 

the strict union betwixt causes and effects ; so that the ex- 
planation of them must, in some measure, be coupled 
together : but as all solid and fruitful natural philosophy 
hath both an ascending and a descending scale of parts, 
leading from experience to axioms, and from axioms to new 
discoveries, it seems most advisable here, in the division of 
sciences, to separate speculation from operation, and treat 
them distinct. 



CHAPTER IY. 

Division of the Speculative Branch of Natural Philosophy into Physics 
and Metaphysics. Physics relate to the Investigation of Efficient 
Causes and Matter ; 'Metaphysics to that of Final Causes and the 
Form. Division of Physics into the Sciences of the Principles of 
Things, the Structure of Things, and the Variety of Things. Division 
of Physics in relation to the Variety of Things into Abstract and 
Concrete. Division of Concretes agrees with the Distribution of the 
Parts of Natural History. Division of Abstracts into the Doctrine 
of Material Forms and Motion. Appendix of Speculative Physics 
twofold : viz., Natural Problems and the Opinions of Ancient Philo- 
sophers. Metaphysics divided into the Knowledge of Forms and the 
Doctrine of Final Causes. 

The speculative or theoretical part of natural philosophy 
we divide into physics and metaphysics ; taking the word 
metaphysics in a sense different from that received. And 
here we must, once for all, declare, as to our use of words, 
that though our conceptions and notions are new, and 
different from the common, yet we religiously retain the 
ancient forms of speech ; for as we hope that the method, 
and clear explanation, we endeavour at, will free us from any 
misconstruction that might arise from an ill choice of words ; 
so in everything else, it is our desire, as much as possible, 
without prejudice to truth and the sciences, not to deviate 
from ancient opinions and forms of speech. And here I 
cannot but wonder that Aristotle should proceed in such a 
spirit of contradiction, as he did to all antiquity ; not only 
coining new terms of science at pleasure, but endeavouring 
to abolish all the knowledge of the ancients ; so that he 
never mentions any ancient author but to reprove him, nor 
opinion but to confute it ; which is the ready way to pro- 
cure fame and followers. For certainly it happens in philo- 
sophical, as it does in divine truth : " I came in the name 






124 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK III. 

of my Father, and ye received me not ; but if one came in 
his own name, ye would receive him." a Which divine 
aphorism, as applied to Antichrist, the great deceiver, plainly 
shows us that a man's coming in his own name, without 
regard to antiquity or paternity, is no good sign of truth, 
though joined with the fortune and success of being received. 
But for so excellent and sublime a genius as Aristotle, one 
would think he caught this ambition from his scholar, and 
affected to subdue all opinions, as Alexander did all nations ; 
and thus erect himself a monarchy in his own contemplation. 
Though for this, perhaps, he may not escape the lash of some 
severe pen, no more than his pupil ; and be called a success- 
ful ravager of learning, as the other was, of countries. b Some 
are doubtless disposed to treat him with the same coiu^tesy 
as his scholar, in saying, 

" Fcelix doctrinoB prasdo, non utile mundo 
Editus exemplum." c 

But on the other hand, desiring, by all possible means, to 
cultivate and establish a free commerce betwixt ancient and 
modern learning, we judge it best religiously to side with 
antiquity, and therefore to retain ancient terms, though we 
frequently alter their sense, according to that moderate and 
laudable usage in politics, of introducing a new state of 
things, without changing the styles and titles of government.* 
Thus then we distinguish metaphysics, as may appear by 
what was above delivered, from primary philosophy, e which, 
has hitherto been taken from it, making this the common 
parent of the sciences, and that a part of natural philosophy. 

a St. John v. 43. 

b We should rather say that Alexander caught the fire of ambition 
from his master, as Aristotle put forth his pretensions to mental empire 
long before his pupil overran Egypt. In addition, it may be observed that 
Aristotle was an Athenian, and that the strong antipathies which his 
countrymen bore to the king o'f Persia were increased by the ties of 
blood and friendship which bound him to Hemiius, king of Atarne, 
whom the eastern despot had abused. It is most likely, therefore, that 
Aristotle never missed an opportunity of exciting his royal pupil to that 
conquest, which the Athenians had previously attempted to execute ; as 
affording him the satisfaction of retaliating the injuries of a departed 
friend, as well as an opportunity oi collecting a store of natural facts on 
which he might erect the superstructure of the physical sciences. Ed. 

c Lucan, x. 21. d Tacitus, Annals, i. 

i e Concerning primary philosophy, see above. 



CHAP. IV.] THE BRANCHES OF PHYSICS DISCRIMINATED. 125 

We have assigned the common and promiscuous axioms of 
the sciences to primitive philosophy ; and v all relative and 
accidental conditions of essences, which we call transcenclant, 
as multitude, paucity, identity, diversity, possible, impossible, 
and the like, we have included in the same province, with 
this understanding, that they be handled according to their 
effects in nature, and not logically. We have referred the 
inquiry concerning God, unity, goodness, angels, and spirits, 
to natural philosophy. But to assign the proper office of 
metaphysics, as contradistinguished from primary philosophy, 
and natural theology, we must note, that as physics regards 
the things which are wholly immersed in matter and move- 
able, so metaphysics regards what is more abstracted and 
fixed ; that physics supposes only existence, motion, and 
natural necessity, whilst metaphysics supposes also mind and 
idea. But to be more express : as we have divided natural 
philosophy into the investigation of causes, and the pro- 
duction of effects, and referred the investigation of causes 
to theory, which we again divide into physical and meta- 
physical ; it is necessary that the real difference of these two 
be drawn from the nature of the causes they inquire into ; 
and therefore, plainly, physics inquires into the efficient and 
the matter, and metaphysics into the form and the end. 
Physics, therefore, is vague and unstable as to causes, and 
treats moveable bodies as its subjects, without discovering a 
constancy of causes in different subjects. Thus the same 
fire gives hardness to clay and softness to wax, though it be 
no constant cause either of hardness or softness. 1 

u Limus ut hie durescit, et hsec ut cera liquescit 
Uno eodemque igni." g 

We divide physics into three parts ; for nature is either 
collected into one total, or diffused and distributed. Nature 
is directed in its collocations either by the common elements 
in the diversity of things, or by the unity which prevails in 
the one integral fabric of the universe. Whence this union 

f Physics, therefore, may be defined that part of universal philosophy 
which observes and considers the procedure of nature in bodies, so as to 
discover her laws, powers, and effects ; and the material origins, and 
causes thereof, in different subjects ; and thence form rules for imi- 
tating, controlling, or even excelling her works, in the instances it 
considers. Shaw. , % Virgil's Eclogues, viii. 80. 



126 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK IH 

of nature produces two parts of physics ; the one relating to 
the principles of things, and the other to the structure of the 
universe ; whilst the third exhibits all the possible varieties 
and lesser collections of things. And this latter is like a 
first gloss, or paraphrase in the interpretation of nature. 
None of the three are deficient entirely, but how justly and 
solidly they have been treated is another question. 

The third part we again divide into two others, with regard 
to concretes and abstracts, or into physics of creatures and 
physics of natures : the one inquiring into substances, and 
all the variety of their accidents ; the other into accidents 
through all the variety of substances. Thus if inquiry be 
made about a lion or an oak ; these support many different 
accidents : so if the inquiry were about heat or gravity ; 
these are found in many different substances. But as all 
physics lies in the middle, betwixt natural history and meta- 
physics i so the former part approaches nearer to natural 
history, and the latter to metaphysics. 

Concrete physics has the same division with natural 
history ; being conversant either about celestial appearances, 
meteors, and the terrestrial globe ; or about the larger 
assemblages of matter, called the elements ; and the lesser or 
particular bodies : as also about prsetergenerations and 
mechanics. For in all these, natural history examines and 
relates the matters of fact ; and physics their instable, or 
material and efficient causes. And among these parts of 
physics, that is absolutely lame and incomplete, which re- 
gards the celestial bodies, though for the dignity of the 
subject it claims the highest regard. Astronomy, indeed, is 
well founded in phenomena ; yet it is low and far from solid. 
But astrology is in many things destitute of all foundation. 
And to say the truth, astronomy itself seems to offer Prome- 
theus's sacrifice to the understanding ; for as he would have 
imposed upon Jupiter a fair large hide, stuffed with straw, 
and leaves, and twigs, instead of the ox itself, so astronomy 
gives us the number, situation, motion, and periods of the 
stars, as a beautiful outside of the heavens, whilst the flesh 
and the entrails are wanting ; that is, a well-fabricated 
system, or the physical reasons and foundations for a just 
theory, that should not only solve phenomena, as almost any 
ingenious theory may do, but show the substance, motions, 
and influences of the heavenly bodies,, as they really are. For 



CHAP. IV.] PHYSICAL ASTRONOMY DEFICIENT. 127 

those dogmas are long since exploded, which asserted the 
rapture of the first morn and the solidity of the heavens, in 
which the stars were supposed fastened like nails in the 
vaulted roof of a hall, and other opinions almost as silly ; 
viz., that the zodiac has several poles ; that there exists a 
movement of resilience against the rapture of the first 
motion ; that all parts of the firmament are wheeled round in 
perfect circles, with eccentric and epicycles to preserve their 
circular rotation ; that the moon has no influence over bodies 
higher in the heavens ; the absurdity of which notions 
have thrown men upon the extravagant idea of the diurnal 
motion of the earth, an opinion which we can demonstrate 
to be most false. h But scarce any one has inquired into the 
physical causes of the substance of the heavens, stellar and 
interstellar; the different velocities of the celestial bodies 
with regard to one another; the different accelerations of 
motion in the same planet ; the sequences of their motion 
from east to west ; l the progressions, stations, and retro- 
gradations of the planets, the stoppage and accidents of 
their motion in perigee and apogee, the obliquity of their 
motions ; why the poles of rotation are principally in one 
quarter of the heavens; why certain planets keep a fixed 
distance from the sun, &c. Inquiries of this kind have 
hitherto been hardly touched upon, but the pains have been 
chiefly bestowed in mathematical observations and demon- 
strations ; which indeed may show how to account for all 
these things ingeniously, but not how they actually are in 
nature : how to represent the apparent motions of the 
heavenly bodies, and machines of them, made according to 
particular fancies ; but not the real causes and truth of 
things. And therefore astronomy, as it now stands, loses its 
dignity by being reckoned among the mathematical arts, for 
it ought in justice to make the most noble part of physics. k 

h That doctrine had been recently demonstrated by Galileo, and de- 
fended by Gilbert. 

1 That is, from west to east, according to the Copernican system. Ed. 

k Bacon maps out the entire region of human knowledge, breaking up 
the old sections, and assigning to each science new boundaries more con- 
formable in his view to strict philosophical notions than the old ; yet he 
capriciously enough makes mathematics an essential part of metaphysics, 
or inquiry into forms, and astronomy a compartment of mathematics, and 
then decries this absurd arrangement as the notion of the age. It 
is evident, however, that the age was innocent of the charge, and that 
Bacon snatched up the idea from the demonstrations which Copernicus, 



128 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK III. 

And whoever despises the imaginary separation between 
terrestrial and celestial things, and well understands the 
more general appetites and passions of matter, 1 which are 
powerful in both, may receive a clear information of what 
l^appens above from that which happens below ; and from 
what passes in the heavens, he may become acquainted with 
some inferior motions hitherto undiscovered, not as these are 
governed by those, but as they both have the same common 
passions. We, therefore, report this physical part of astro- 
nomy as wanting, in comparison of which the present 
animated astronomy is but as the stuffed ox of Prometheus 
— aping the form but wanting the substance. 

But for astrology, it is so full of superstition, that scarce 
anything sound can be discovered in it ; though we judge it 
should rather be purged than absolutely rejected. But if any 
one shall pretend that this science is founded, not in reason 

Kepler, and Gilbert employed to dethrone the Ptolemaic theory of 
the heavens. Bacon was too jealous of Gilbert to entertain one 
moment any doctrine that he advanced; and a little further on he 
alludes to his mathematical thesis in favour of the earth's diurnal 
motion as proofs contradicted by natural philosophy, though incapable 
of being confuted by observation. From such demonstrations, how- 
ever, astronomy could no more be regarded as a branch of mathematics 
than commerce or politics, because they sometimes call in the aid of 
arithmetic ; and if Bacon had followed out this strange notion, he must 
have made, with Iamblicus, numbers the parent of all knowledge, as 
there is no department of science advanced beyond mere empiricism 
which does not rest upon the basis of figures. The degradation which 
Bacon imputes to astronomy from its association with mathematics 
shows that the most acute minds are no more privileged than the 
weakest to decide questions in relation to things of which they are per- 
fectly ignorant. It is needless to say that a science only advances 
beyond empiricism to those intermediate or general axioms which Bacon 
so ardently desired to reach, so far as its phenomena admit of being 
extended and corrected by mathematical forms, and that it was only 
through such agencies that astronomy, almost in the space of a single 
age, was transformed from a mere empiric colligation of facts into the 
highest of the deductive sciences. The confusion arose from the conse- 
quences of Bacon's fundamental division of the sciences, which confounded 
those which are purely formal with the substantive sciences of which 
they are in some measure a universal condition, and hindered Bacon 
from seizing with precision upon the functions and limits of these 
sciences, and comprehending the important part the mathematical 
portion of them perform, in extending and corroborating physical dis - 
covery. Ed. 

1 Tendencies, forces, efforts, and effects. Ed. 



CHAP. IV.] ASTROLOGY PERVERTED. 129 

and physical contemplations, but in the direct experience and 
observation of past ages, and therefore not to be examined by 
physical reasons, as the Chaldeans boasted, he may at the same 
time bring back divination, auguries, soothsaying, aud give 
in to all kinds of fables ; for these also were said to descend 
from long experience. But we receive astrology as a part of 
physics, without attributing more to it than reason and the 
evidence of things allow, and strip it of its superstition and 
conceits. Thus we banish that empty notion about the 
horary reign of the planets, as if each resumed the throne 
thrice in twenty-four hours, so as to leave three hours super- 
numerary : and yet this fiction produced the division of the 
week, a thing so ancient and so universally received. Thus 
likewise we reject, as an idle figment, the doctrine of horo- 
scopes, and the distribution of the houses, though these are 
the darling inventions of astrology, which have kept revel, 
as it were, in the heavens. And we are surprised that some 
eminent authors in astrology should rest upon so slender an 
argument for erecting them, as because it appears by ex- 
perience that the solstices, the equinoxes, the new and full 
moon, &c. have a manifest operation upon natural bodies, 
therefore the more curious and subtile positions of the stars 
must produce more exquisite and secret effects : whereas, 
laying aside those operations of the sun, which are owing to 
manifest heat, and a certain attractive virtue of the moon, 
which causes the spring tide ; the other effects of the planets 
upon natural bodies are, so far as experience reaches, exceed- 
ing small, weak, and latent. Therefore the argument should 
run thus : since these greater revolutions are able to effect so 
little, those more nice and trifling differences of positions 
will have no force at all. And lastly, for the calculation of 
nativities, fortunes, good or bad hours of business, and the 
like fatalities, they are mere levities that have little in them 
of certainty and solidity, and may be plainly confuted by 
physical reasons. 

And here we judge it proper to lay down some roles for 
the examination of astrological matters, in order to retain 
what is useful therein, and reject what is insignificant. Thus, 
1. Let the greater revolutions be retained, but the lesser of 
horoscopes and houses be rejected, — the former being like 
ordnance, which shoot to a great distance, whilst the other 
2 K 



130 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK III. 

are but like small bows, that do no execution. 2. The celes- 
tial operations affect not all kinds of bodies, but only the 
more sensible, as humours, air, and spirits. 111 Here we except 
the operations of the sun's heat, which may doubtless pene- 
trate metals and other subterraneous bodies, and confine the 
other operations chiefly to the air, the humours, and the 
spirits of things. 3. All the celestial operations rather ex- 
tend to masses of things than to individuals. Though they 
may obliquely reach some individuals also, which are more 
sensible than the rest, as a pestilent constitution of the air 
affects those bodies which are least able to resist it. 4. All 
the celestial operations produce not their effects instanta- 
neously and in a narrow compass, but exert them in large 
portions of time and space. Thus predictions as to the tem- 
perature of a year may hold good, but not with regard to 
single days. 5. There is no fatal necessity in the stars ; and 
this the more prudent astrologers have constantly allowed. 
6. We will add one thing more, which, if amended and im- 
proved, might make for astrology, viz., that we are certain 
the celestial bodies have other influences besides heat and 
light, but these influences act not otherwise than by the 
foregoing rules, though they lie so deep in physics as to re- 
quire a fuller explanation. So that, upon the whole, we 
must register as defective an astrology wrote in conformity 
to these principles, under the name of Astrologia Sana. 

This just astrology should contain, — 1. The doctrine of 
the commixture of rays, viz., the conjunctions, oppositions, 
and other situations, or aspect of the planets with regard to 
one another, their transits through the signs of the zodiac, 
and their situation in the same signs, as the situation of 
planets in a sign is a certain conjunction thereof with the 
stars of that sign; and as the conjunctions, so likewise should 
the oppositions and other aspects of the planets, with regard 
to the celestial signs, be remarked, which has not hitherto 
been fully done. The commixtures of the rays of the fixed 
stars with one another are of use in contemplating the fabric 
of the world, and the nature of the subjacent regions, but in 

m But if celestial bodies act upon humours, air, and spirits, and 
these in turn affect solid bodies, it follows that they also act on solid 
bodies. Ed, 



CHAP. IV.] TRUE OBJECTS OF ASTROLOGY. 131 

no respect for predictions, because at all times alike. 2. This 
astrology should take in the nearest approaches and the far- 
thest removes of each planet to and from the zenith, accord- 
ing to the climate; for all the planets have their summer 
and winter, wherein they dart their rays stronger or weaker, 
according to their perpendicular or oblique direction. So we 
question not but the moon in Leo lias, in the same manner 
as the sun, a greater effect upon natural bodies with us than 
when in Pisces, not because the moon in Leo moves the 
head, and under Pisces affects the feet, but by reason of her 
greater perpendicular elevation and nearer approach to the 
larger stars. 3. It should receive the apogees and perigees 
of the planets, with a proper inquiry into what the vigour of 
the planets may perform of itself, and what through their 
nearness to us ; for a planet is more brisk in its apogee, but 
more communicative in its perigee. 4. It should include all 
the other accidents of the planets' motions, their accelera- 
tions, retardations, courses, stations, retrogradations, dis- 
tances from the sun, increase and diminutions of light, 
eclipses, &c. For all these things affect the rays of the 
planets, and cause them to act either weaker, stronger, or in 
a different manner. 5. This astrology should contain all 
that can by any means be known or discovered of the nature 
of the stars, both erratic and fixed, considered in their own 
essence and activity, viz., their magnitude, colour, asj3ect ? 
sparkling and vibrating of light ; their situation with regard 
to the poles or equinoctial; the constellations, which thicker 
set and which thinner, which higher, which lower; what 
fixed stars are in the zodiac, and wmat out of it ; the dif- 
ferent velocities of the planets, their different latitudes, 
which of them are retrograde, and which not; their diffe- 
rent distances from the sun; which move swiftest in their 
apogee, *and which in their perigee ; the irregularities of 
Mars, the excursions of Venus, and the extraordinary phases, 
accidents, and appearances observable in Venus and the sun ; 
with other things of this kind. 6. Lastly, let it contain, 
from tradition, the particular natures and alterations of the 
planets and fixed stars ; for as these are delivered with gene- 
ral consent, they are not lightly to be rejected, unless they 
directly contradict physical reasons. And of such observa- 

K2 



132 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK III. 

tions let a just astrology "be formed ; and according to these 
alone should schemes of the heavens be made and inter- 
preted. 

Such an astrology should he used with greater confidence 
in prediction, but more cautiously in election, and in both 
cases with due moderation. Thus predictions may be made 
of comets, and all kinds of meteors, inundations, droughts, 
heats, frosts, earthquakes, fiery eruptions, winds, great rains, 
the seasons of the year, plagues, epidemic diseases, plenty, 
famine, wars, seditions, sects, transmigrations of people, and 
all commotions or great innovations of things natural arid 
civil. Predictions may possibly be made more particular, 
though with less certainty, if when the general tendencies of 
the times are found, a good philosophical or political judg- 
ment applies them to such things as are most liable to this 
kind of accidents. For example, from a foreknowledge of 
the seasons of any year they might be apprehended more 
destructive to olives than grapes, more hurtful in distempers 
of the lungs than the liver, more pernicious to the inhabit- 
ants of hills than valleys, and, for want of provisions, to 
monks than courtiers, &c. Or if any one, from a knowledge 
of the influence which the celestial bodies have upon the 
spirits of mankind, should find it would affect the people 
more than their rulers, learned and inquisitive men more 
than the military, &c. For there are innumerable things of 
this kind that require not only a general knowledge, gained 
from the stars, which are the agents, but also a particular 
one of the passive subjects. 

Nor are elections to be wholly rejected, though not so 
much to be trusted as predictions; for we find in planting, 
sowing, and grafting, observations of the moon are not abso- 
lutely trifling, and there are many particulars of this kind. 
But elections are more to be curbed by our rules tfian pre- 
dictions ; and this must always be remembered, that election 
only holds in such cases where the virtue of the heavenly 
bodies, and the action of the inferior bodies also, is not tran- 
sient, as in the examples just mentioned; for the increases 
of the moon and planets are not sudden things. But punc- 
tuality of time should here be absolutely rejected. And 
perhaps there are more of these instances to be found in civil 
matters than some would imagine. 



chap, iv.] celestial magic. 133 

There are but four ways of arriving at this science, viz., 

1. By future experiments; 2. Past experiments; 3. Tradi- 
tions; and, 4. Physical reasons. But, 1. It is in vain at 
present to think of future experiments, because many ages 
are required to procure a competent stock of them. And, 

2. As for the past, it is true they are within our reach, but 
it is a work of labour and much time to procure them. Thus 
astrologers may, if they please, draw from real history all 
greater accidents, as inundations, plagues, wars, seditions, 
deaths of kings, drc, as also the positions of the celestial 
bodies, not according to fictitious horoscopes, but the above- 
mentioned rules of their revolutions, or such as they really 
were at the time, and where the event conspires, erect a pro- 
bable rule of prediction. 3. All traditions should be well 
sifted, and those thrown out that manifestly clash with phy- 
sical reasons, leaving such in their full force as comport well 
therewith. And, 4. Those physical reasons are best suited 
to this inquiry which search into the universal appetites and 
passions of matter, and the simple genuine motions of the 
heavenly bodies. And this we take for the surest guide to 
astrology. 

There remains another piece of wild astrology, though 
usually separated from it, and transferred to celestial magic 
as they call it. It is a strange fiction of the human brain, 
the receiving the benign action of the stars upon seals and 
signets of gems or metal suited to the purpose, so as to de- 
tain and fix, as it were, the felicity of that hour which would 
otherwise be volatile and fugitive. The poet passionately 
complains of a similar art among the ancients long since 
buried in oblivion, — 

" Aimulus infuso non vivit minis Olympo, 
Kon magis ingentes humili sub lumine Pkcebos, 
Fert gemma, aut celso divulsas cardine lunas." 

Indeed the Roman Church has upheld the venerableness of 
saints' relics and their virtues, since the flux of time has no 
power to abate the force and efficacy of spiritual tilings ; but 
to assert that the relics of persons might be so determined 
as to continue and perpetuate the virtue of an hour which 

B Agrippa, Mystical Philosophy. 



134 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK III. 

is past, and as it were dead, is mere superstition and im- 
posture. 

Abstract physics may be justly divided into two parts, — 
the doctrine of the schemes of matter, and the doctrine of 
appetites and motions. The schemes of matter are density, 
rarity, gravity, levity, heat, cold, tangibility, intangibility, 
volatile, fixed, determinate, fluid, humid, dry, unctuous, 
crude, hard, soft, fragile, tensile, porous, united, spirituous, 
jejune, simple, compound, absolute, imperfectly mixed, fibrous 
and veiny, simple position, or equable, similar, dissimilar, 
specificate, unspecificate, organical, inorganical, animate and 
inanimate ; and farther than this we proceed not. For sen- 
sible and insensible, rational and irrational, we refer to the 
doctrine of man. 

Appetites and motions are of two kinds, — as being either 
simple motions, wherein the spring of all natural actions is 
contained, that is, in respect of their schemes of matter; or 
motions compounded or produced, and with these the com- 
mon philosophy, which enters but little into the body of 
nature, begins. But these compound motions, such as gene- 
ration, corruption, &c, should be esteemed certain results or 
effects of simple motions, rather than primitive motions 
themselves. The simple motions are, — 1. Motion of resist- 
ance, or preventive of penetration of dimensions; 2. Motion 
of connection, preventive of a vacuum, as it is called ; 3. Mo- 
tion of liberty, preventive of preternatural compression, or 
extension; 4. Motion in a new orb, with regard to rarefac- 
tion and condensation ; 5. Motion of the second connection, 
or preventive of solution of continuity; 6. Motion of the 
greater congregation, or with regard to masses of connatural 
bodies, commonly called natural motion; 7. Motion of the 
lesser congregation, vulgarly termed motion of sympathy and 
antipathy; 8. Disponent motion, with regard to the just 
placing of parts in the whole ; 9. Motion of assimilation, 
or multiplicative of its own nature upon another body; 
10. Motion of excitation, where the noble agent excites the 
latent and benumbed motion in another thing; 11. Motion 
of the seal, or impression, by an operation without commu- 
nication of substance; 12. Begal motion, or the restraint of 
other motions by a predominant one; 13. Endless motion, 
or spontaneous rotation; 14. Motion ot trepidation, or the 



CHAP. IV.] DIVISION OF AESTRACT PHYSICS. 135 

motion of systole and diastole, with regard to bodies placed 
betwixt tilings advantageous and hurtful; 15. And lastly, 
Motion couchant, or a dread of motion, which is the cause of 
many effects. And such are the simple motions that really 
proceed out of the inward recesses of nature; and which 
being complicated, continued, used alternately, moderated, 
repeated, and variously combined, produce those compound 
motions or results of motion we call generation, corruption, 
increase, diminution, alteration, translation, mixtion, separa- 
tion, and conversion. 

The measures of motions are an attendant on physics, as 
showing the effects of quantity, distance, or the sphere of 
activity, intension and remission, short and long continuance, 
activity, dulness, and incitation. And these are the genuine 
parts of abstract physics, which wholly consists, — 1. In the 
schemes of matter; 2. Simple motions; 3. The results or 
sums of motions; and, 4. The measures of motions. As for 
voluntary motion in animals, — the motion in the action of 
the senses, the motions of the imagination, appetite, and will, 
the motion of mind, the determination, and other intellec- 
tual faculties, — they have their own proper doctrines under 
which we range them, confining the whole of physics to 
matter and efficient, and assigning over forms and ends to 
metaphysics. 

We must annex two remarkable appendages to physics, 
with regard rather to the manner, than the matter of inquiry; 
viz., natural problems, and the opinions of the ancient philo- 
sophers. The first is an appendage of nature at large, and 
the other of nature united or summed up ; both relating to 
a diligent kind of doubting, which is no contemptible part of 
knowledge. Now, problems contain particular doubts and 
opinions, general ones, as to principles and structure. In the 
books of Aristotle we have a noble example of problems, 
deserving not only the praises but the imitation of posterity, 
since new doubts are daily arising. But the utmost caution 
is to be used in such an undertaking. The recording and 
proposing of doubts has two advantages; the one, as it 
defends philosophy against errors, when that which is not 
clear is neither judged nor asserted, lest error thus should 
multiply error, but judgment is suspended upon it, and not 
made positive ; the other is, that doubts once registered are 



136 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK III. 

like so many sponges, which perpetually suck and draw to 
themselves the increases of knowledge ; whence those things 
which would have been slightly passed over, unless they had 
been doubted of before, come now from this very doubting 
to be more attentively considered. But these two advantages 
will scarce balance this single inconvenience, unless well pro- 
vided against ; viz., that when a doubt is once admitted for 
just, and becomes, as it were, authentic, it presently raises 
up disputants on both sides, who transmit to posterity the 
same liberty of doubting still ; so that men seem to apply their 
wits rather to nourish the doubt than solve it. And of this 
we everywhere meet with examples in lawyers and scholars ; 
who, when a doubt once gains admittance, would have it 
remain a doubt for ever, and engage themselves in doubting 
as well as asserting ; whereas the true use of wit is to 
render doubtful things certain, and not certain ones doubt- 
ful. And therefore I set down as wanting a calendar of 
doubts or problems in nature, and recommend it to be under- 
taken, with care to blot out daily, as knowledge increases, 
those that are clearly discussed and settled. And this calen- 
dar we would have attended with another of no less utility ; 
for as in every inquiry there are things plainly true, things 
doubtful, and things plainly false, it were exceeding proper 
that along with a calendar of doubts should go a calendar of 
falsehoods and vulgar errors, both in natural history and 
opinions, that they may no longer disturb the sciences. 

As to the opinions of the ancient philosophers, for example 
those of Pythagoras, Philolaus, Xenophanes, Anaxagoras, 
Parmenides, Leucippus, Democritus, and others, which men 
usually pass slightly over, it is proper to cast a modest eye 
upon them. For though Aristotle, after the Ottoman 
manner, thought he could not reign secure without putting 
all his brethren to death, yet those who do not affect 
dominion and rule, but the inquiry and illustration of truth, 
will find their account in beholding, at one view, the different 
opinions of different philosophers, as to the nature of things. 
Eut there is no room to expect any pure truth from these or 
the like theories : for as the celestial appearances are solved 
both upon the suppositions of Ptolemy and Copernicus ; so 
common experience, and the obvious face of things, may be 
applied to many different theories : whilst a much stricter 



CHAP. IV.] HISTORY OF THE ANCIENT PHILOSOPHIES. 137 

procedure is required in the right discovery of truth. For 
as Aristotle accurately remarks, that children, when they 
first begin to speak, call every woman mother ; but after- 
wards learn to distinguish their own :° so a childish ex- 
perience calls every philosophy its mother, but when grown 
up, will easily distinguish its time one. In the mean time, 
it is proper to read the disagreeing philosophies, as so many 
different glosses of nature. We could therefore wish there 
were, with care and judgment, drawn up a work of the 
ancient philosophies, P from the lives of old philosophers, 
Plutarch's collection of their opinions, the citations of Plato, 
the confutations of Aristotle, and the scattered relations oi 
other books, whether ecclesiastical or heathen; as Lactantius, 
Philo, Philostratus, &c. For such a work is not yet extant ; 
and we would advise it to be done distinctly ; so that each 
philosophy be drawn out and continued separate, and not 
ranged under titles and collections, as Plutarch has done. 
For every philosophy, when entire, supports itself, and its 
doctrines thus add light and strength to each other ; which, 
if separated, sound strange and harsh. Thus, when we read 
in Tacitus the acts of JSfero or Claudius, clothed with the 
circumstances of times, persons, and occasions, everything 
seems plausible ; but when the same are read in Suetonius, 
distributed under chapters and common-places, and not 
described in the order of time, they look monstrous, and 
absolutely incredible. And the case is the same with philo- 
sophy proposed entire, and dismembered, or cut into articles, 
Nor do we exclude from this calendar the modern theories 
and opinions, as those of Paracelsus, elegantly reduced by 

° Aristotle's Physics. 

p The work here proposed is of vast extent, and a fit undertaking for 
a society, as intended to include all the ancient and modern systems of 
philosophy, or the history of knowledge through all ages and countries. 
Considerable progress has, however, been made in it, particularly by 
Vossius "De Philosophia, et Philosophorum Sectis," continued with a 
supplement by Eussel, printed at Jena, in the year 1705 ; by Panci- 
rollus, "De Rebus inventis et perditis ;" by Paschius, i{ De Novis In- 
ventis, quibus facem prsetulit antiquitas ;" by Stanley in his " Lives of 
the Philosophers ;" by Herbelot in his " Bibliotheque Universelle ;" by 
M. Bayle in his " Dictionary," &c. For more collections, histories, and 
writings to this purpose, see " Struvii Bibliotheca Philosophica," 
Morhof's " Polyhistor," and "Stollii Introductio in Historiam Lite* 
rariam." Shaiv. 



138 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK III. 

Severinus into a body and harmony of philosophy : or of 
Telesius, who, in restoring the philosophy of Parmenides, has 
turned their own weapons against the Peripatetics ; or of 
Gilbert, who revived the doctrines of Philolaus ; or of any 
other, provided he be worthy. But as there are whole 
volumes of these authors extant, we would only have the 
result drawn out and joined to the rest. And so much for 
physics and its appendages. 

To metaphysics we assign the inquiry of formal and final 
causes. But an opinion has prevailed, as if the essential 
forms, or real differences of things, were absolutely undis- 
coverable by human means ; granting, at the same time, that 
if they could be discovered, this, of all the parts of knowledge, 
would be the most worthy of inquiry. As to the possibility 
of the tiling, there are indolent discoverers, who see nothing 
but sea and sky, absolutely deny there can be any land beyond 
them. But it is manifest that Plato, a man of a sublime 
genius, who took a view of everything as from a high rock, 
saw in his doctrine of ideas, that "forms were the true object 
of knowledge;" 9 though he lost the advantage of this just 
opinion by contemplating and grasping at forms totally 
abstracted from matter, and not as determined in it ; r whence 
he turned aside to theological speculations, and therewith 
infected all his natural philosophy. But if with diligence, 
seriousness, and sincerity, we turn our eyes to action and use, 
we may find, and become acquainted with those forms, the 
knowledge whereof will wonderfully enrich and prosper 
human affairs. 

The forms of substances, indeed, viz. the species of crea- 
tures, 3 are so complicated and interwoven, that the inquiry 
into them is either vain, or should be laid aside for a time, 
and resumed after the forms of a more simple nature have 
been duly sifted and discovered. For as it were neither easy 
nor useful to discover the form of a sound that shall make 
a word, since words, by the composition and transpositions 

i In the Timseus, passim, et Eep. x. init. Cf. Hooker, i. 3, 4 ; com- 
pare also Hallam's Literature of Europe, part iii. c. 3, p. 402. 

r As Mr. Boyle has excellently shown, by a large induction of experi- 
ments and crucial instances, wherewith most of his physical inquiries 
are enriched. 

s As plants, animals, minerals ; the elements fire, air, water, earth, &c. 



CHAP. IV.] DIVISION OF METAPHYSICS. 139 

of letters are infinite ; but practicable, easy, and useful to 
discover the form of a sound expressing a single letter, or 
by what collision or application of the organs of the voice, 
it was made ; and as these forms of letters being known, we 
are thence directly led to inquire the forms of words : so, to 
inquire the form of an oak, a lion, gold, water, or air, were 
at present vain \ but to inquire the form of density, rarity, 
heat, cold, gravity, levity, and other schemes of matter and 
motions, which, like the letters of the alphabet, are few in 
number, yet make and support the essences and forms of all 
substances, is what we would endeavour after, as constituting 
and determining that part of metaphysics we are now upon. 

Nor does this hinder physics from considering the same 
natures in their fluxile causes only ; thus, if the cause of 
whiteness in snow, or froth, were inquired into, it is judged 
to be a subtile intermixture of air with water ; but this is 
far from being the form of whiteness, since air intermixed 
with powdered glass or crystal is also judged to produce 
whiteness no less than when mixed with water : this, there- 
fore, is only the efficient cause, and no other than the vehicle 
of the form. But if the inquiry be made in metaphysics, it 
will be found that two transparent bodies, intermixed in 
their optical portions, and in a simple order, make whiteness. 
This part of metaphysics I find defective ; and no wonder ; 
because in the method of inquiry hitherto used, the forms of 
things can never appear. The misfortune lies here, that men 
have accustomed themselves to hurry away, and abstract 
their thoughts too hastily, and carry them too remote from 
experience and particulars, and have given themselves wholly 
up to their own meditations and arguments. 

The use of this part of metaphysics is recommended by 
two principal things : first, as it is the office and" excellence 
of all sciences to shorten the long turnings and windings of 
experience, so as to remove the ancient complaint of the 
scantiness of life, and the tecliousness of art ;* this is best 
performed by collecting and uniting the axioms of the 
sciences into more general ones, that shall suit the matter of 
all individuals. For the sciences are like pyramids, erected 
upon the single basis of history and experience, and therefore 

1 Compare Plat. Thaeet, i. 155, 156. 



140 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK III, 

a history of nature is, 1. the basis of natural philosophy ; 
and 2. the first stage from the basis is physics ; and 3. that 
nearest the vertex metaphysics ; but 4. for the vertex itself, 
"the work which God worketh from the beginning to the 
end," 11 or the summary law of nature, we doubt whether 
human inquiry can reach it. But for the other three, they 
are the true stages of the sciences, and are used by those 
men who are inflated by their own knowledge, and a daring 
insolence, as the three hills of the giants to invade heaven. 

" Ter sunt coimti imponere Pelio Ossam 

Scilicet, atque Ossse frondosum involvere 01ympum." x 

But to the humble and the meek they are the three acclama- 
tions, Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus ; for God is holy in the 
multitude of his works, as well as in their order and union, y 
and therefore the speculation was excellent in Parmenides 
and Plato, that all things by defined gradations ascend to 
unity. 2 And as that science is the most excellent, which 
least burthens the understanding by its multiplicity ; this 
property is found in metaphysics, as it contemplates those 
simple forms of things, density, rarity, &c, which we call 
forms of the first class ; for though these are few, yet, by 
their commensurations and co-ordinations, they constitute all 
truth. 

The second thing that ennobles this part of metaphysics, 
relating to forms, is, that it releases the human power, and 
leads it into an immense and open field of work ; for physics 
direct us through narrow rugged paths, in imitation of the 
crooked ways of ordinary nature ; but the ways of wisdom, 
which were anciently defined as "rerum divinarum et huma- 
narum scientia," a are everywhere wide, and abounding in 
plenty, and variety of means. Physical causes, indeed, by 
means of new inventions, afford light and direction in a like 
case again ; but he that understands a form knows the 
ultimate possibility of superinducing that nature upon all 
kinds of matter, and is therefore the less restrained or tied 
down in his working, either as to the basis of the matter or 
the condition of the efficient. Solomon also describes this 

u Eccles. iii. 1. x Virgil, Georgics, i. 281. v Apocalypse iv. 



See conclusion of the Dialogue entitled Parmenides. 
Plato's Phsedo ; Cicero, Tuscul. Quaest. 4, Defin. 2. 



€HAP. IV.] FINAL CAUSES, HOW ABUSED. 141 

kind of knowledge, though in a more divine manner : " ISon 
arctabuntur gressus tui, et currens non habebis offendiculum." b 
Thus denoting that the paths of wisdom are not liable to 
straits and perplexities. 

The second part of metaphysics, is the inquiry of final 
causes, which we note not as wanting, but as ill-placed ; these 
causes being usually sought in physics, not in metaphysics, to 
the great prejudice of philosophy ; for the treating of final 
causes in physics has driven out the inquiry of physical ones, 
and made men rest in specious and shadowy causes, without 
ever searching in earnest after such as are real and truly 
physical. And this was not only done by Plato, who con- 
stantly anchors upon this shore ; but by Aristotle, Galen, 
and others, who frequently introduce such causes as these : 
" The hairs of the eyelids are for a fence to the sight. The 
bones for pillars whereon to build the bodies of animals. 
The leaves of trees are to defend the fruit from the sun and 
wind. The clouds are designed for watering the earth," &c. 
All which are properly alleged in metaphysics ; but in 
physics are impertinent, and as remoras to the ship, that 
hinder the sciences from holding on their course of improve- 
ment, and introducing a neglect of searching after physical 
causes. And therefore the natural philosophies of Democritus 
and others, who allow no God or mind in the frame of things, 
but attribute the structure of the universe to infinite essays 
and trials of nature, or what they call fate or fortune, and 
assigned the causes of particular tilings to the necessity of 
matter without any intermixture of final causes, seem, so far 
as we can judge from the remains of their philosophy, much 
more solid, and to have gone deeper into nature, with regard 
to physical causes, than the philosophy of Aristotle or Plato ; 
and this only because they never meddled with final causes, 
which the others were perpetually inculcating. Though in 
this respect Aristotle is more culpable than Plato, as banish- 
ing God, d the fountain of final causes, and substituting nature 

b Prov. iv. 12. c Cf. e. g. Arist. Phys. ii. 8. 

d From the text it must not be judged that Aristotle invested nature 
with the general powers usually attributed to a divine intelligence, in 
designing and executing her various ends with wisdom and precision, but 
only that he regarded nature as an active and intelligent principle per- 
forming her agencies by means palpable to herself, yet according to the 
laws and faculties conferred upon her by the prime mover of things. The 



142 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK IIL 

in his stead ; and, at the same time, receiving final causes 
through his affection to logic, not theology. 

These final causes, however, are not false, or unworthy of 
inquiry in metaphysics, but their excursion into the limits of 
physical causes hath made a great devastation in that pro- 
vince j otherwise, when contained within their own bounds, 

Spinozist principle which the text attributes to the Stagyrite has been 
understood by many critics ol the sensational school to intimate that 
Aristotle was of their way of thinking, though the idea of an independent 
material intelligence is expressly contradicted by numerous passages in 
his Metaphysics. In book xii. chap. 5, of the works which go under 
this name, the principal being is held to exclude the idea of matter from 
his nature: eTi roivvv ravTag del ovaiag elvai avev 'vXrjg* d'idiovg yap 
del' k.t.X.'j and (ibid. 8) to ds tl r\v elvai ovk £%£t vXt]v to Trpwrov* 
IvTtkkxticL yap. In chap. 7 he affirms this principle to be spirit, — ap%ri 
y vorjdig; that matter cannot move of itself, but needs the action of an 
exterior agent, — ov yap rj ye vXrj Kivrjvei avTr\ eavTijv, dXXa tzktovikyi' 
and that this principle must be eternal and active, — 'Aidiov Kal ovaia 
Kal evepyeia ova a. Aristotle further proceeds to show that all other 
beings are only a species of means transmitting the motion to others 
which have been communicated to them, but that this primary being, 
possessing the spring of motion in itself, moves without being moved ; 
illustrating this kind of action by the emotions and deeds that spring from 
the love, pity, or hatred that agents at rest excite in others. In another 
place he affirms that this being is not only eternal in duration but 
immutable in essence, and quite distinct from sensible things: otl yap 
kvTiv ovaia Tig a'idiog Kal aKivrjTog Kal KexiopKJfJLSvr) twv ala6i]Tatv t 
<pavepbv ek tu>v tiprjiAsviov' and that heaven and nature hang upon its 
behests, — sk TOiavTrjg apa apyr\g i'fpTrjTai 6 ovpavbg Kal y (pvaig. He 
further shows that life belongs to it by essence, and as the action of 
intelligence is life, and vice versa, essential action constitutes the eternal 
life of this being. Aristotle then calls this independent principle God, 
and assigns to it endless duration: tyafiev §e tov 0EON elvai Z&ov aidiov 
apiGTov. "It remains," says the Stagyrite, "to determine whether 
this principle be one or several ; but upon this point we need only 
remember that those who have decided for a plurality have advanced 
nothing worthy of consideration in support of their belief." — 'AXXd 
liepivriaQai Kal Tag tujv dXXiov awotpatjsig otl irepl TrXijOovg ovde eipi}- 
Kaaiv 6 ti Kal aacpeg eiizelv. (Ibid. chap. 8.) "For the principle of exist- 
ence, or the immovable being which is the source of all movement, 
being pure action, and consequently foreign to matter, is one in reason 
and number . . . . all the rest is the creation of a mythology invented 
by politicians to advance the public interest and occupy the attention of 
mankind." To de tl yv elvai ovk k\ei vXr\v to TrpCoTOV evTeXsxsia yap. 
(Supp. note 1.) "Ev pkv apa Kal Xoyi^ Kal apidfi^i to TrpwTov kivovv 
dicivrjTQv. (Ibid. chap. 8.) Td de Xonrd ftvOiKujg ydt] Trpovyx® 1 ! ^pbg Tr\v 
7rei9(i) tlov noXXuiv Kal npbg Tr)v elg Tovg vo\iovg Kal to cvfi(pepov 
Xpyaiv. (Ibid.) Ed. 



CHAP. IV.] FINAL CAUSES, WHEN LEGITIMATE. 143 

they are not repugnant to physical causes ; for the cause, 
that " the hairs of the eyelids are to preserve the sight," is 
no way contradictory to this, that " pilosity is incident to the 
orifices of moisture," — " Muscosi fontes," &c. ; e noj? does the 
cause which assigns the firmness of hides in beasts to a pro- 
tection against the injuries of extreme weather, militate 
against the other cause, which attributes the firmness to the 
contraction of the pores on the exterior of the skin, through 
cold and deprivation of air ; and so of the rest : these two 
kinds of causes agreeing excellently together ; the one ex- 
pressing the intention, and the other the consequence only. 

Nor does this call Divine Providence in question, but 
rather highly confirms and exalts it ; for as he is a greater 
politician, who can make others the instruments of his will, 
without acquainting them with his designs, than he who 
discloses himself to those he employs ; so the wisdom of God 
appears more wondrous, when nature intends one thing, and 
Providence draws out another, than if the characters of 
Providence were stamped upon all the schemes of matter and 
natural motions. So Aristotle had no need of a God, after 
having once impregnated nature with final causes, and laid 
it down that " nature does nothing in vain ; always obtains 
her ends when obstacles are removed," f <fcc. But Democritus 
and Epicurus, when they advanced their atoms, were thus far 
tolerated by some, but when they asserted the fabric of all 
things to be raised by a fortuitous concourse of these atoms, 
without the help of mind, they became universally ridiculous. 
So far are physical causes from drawing men off from God 
and Providence, that, on the contrary, the philosophers 
employed in discovering them can find no rest, but by flying 
to God or Providence at last. 

e Virg. Eclogues, vii. 45. f Aristotle on the Heavens, i. 



ADVANCEMENT OF LEABNING. [BOOK III. 



CHAPTER V. 

Division of the Practical Branch of Natural Philosophy into Mechanics 
and Magic (Experimental Philosophy), which correspond to the Spe- 
culative Division — Mechanics to Physics, and Magic to Metaphysics. 
The word Magic cleared from False Interpretation. Appendix to 
Active Science twofold ; viz., an Inventory of Human Helps and a 
Catalogue of Things of Multifarious Use. 

The practical doctrine of nature we likewise necessarily 
■divide into two parts, corresponding to those of speculative ; 
for physics, or the inquiry of efficient and material causes, 
produces mechanics ; and metaphysics, the inquiry of forms, 
produces magic ; whilst the inquiry of final causes is a barren 
thing, or as a virgin consecrated to God. We here under- 
stand that mechanics which is coupled with physical causes; 
for besides the bare effective or empirical mechanics, which 
has no dependence on physics, and belongs to natural his- 
tory, there is another not absolutely operative, and yet not 
strictly philosophical. For all discoveries of works either 
had their rise from accident, and so were handed down from 
age to age, or else were sought by design; and the latter 
were either discovered by the light of causes and axioms, or 
acquired by extending, transferring, or compounding some 
former inventions, which is a thing more ingenious and saga- 
cious than philosophical. But the mechanics here under- 
stood is that treated by Aristotle promiscuously, by Hero in 
Ins Pneumatics, by that very diligent writer in metallics, 
George Agricola, and by numerous others in particular sub- 
jects; so that we have no omission to note in this point, only 
that the miscellaneous mechanics, after the example of Aris- 
totle, should have been more carefully continued by the 
moderns, especially with regard to such contrivances whose 
causes are more obscure, or their effects more noble ; whereas 
the writers upon these subjects hitherto have only coasted 
along the shore, — "premendo littus iniquum." a And it appears 
to us that scarce anything in nature can be fundamentally 
discovered, either by accident, experimental attempts, or the 
light of physical causes, but only by the discovery of forms. b 
Since, therefore, we have set down as wanting that part of 

a Hor. Odes, b. ii. ode x. 3. 

b Bacon means by forms general laws which co-operate with certain 
agents in producing the qualities of bodies. Show. 



CHAP. V.] NATURAL MAGIC. 145 

metaphysics which treats of forms, it follows that natural 
magic, which is relative to it, must also be wanting. 

We here understand magic in its ancient and honourable 
sense, — among the Persians it stood for a sublimer wisdom, 
or a knowledge of the relations of universal nature, as may 
be observed in the title 01 those kings who came from the 
East to adore Christ. And in the same sense we would have 
it signify that science, which leads to the knowledge of hidden 
forms, for producing great effects, and by joining agents to 
patients setting the capital works of nature to view. The 
common natural magic found in books gives us only some 
childish and superstitious traditions and observations of the 
sympathies and antipathies of things, or occult and specific 
properties, which are usually intermixed with many trifling 
experiments, admired rather for their disguise than for them- 
selves; but as to the truth of nature, this differs from the 
science we propose as much as the romances of Arthur of 
Britain, Hugh of Bordeaux, or other imaginary heroes, do 
from the Commentaries of Caesar in truth of narration. 
Caesar in reality performed greater things, though not by 
romantic means, than such fabulous heroes are feigned to do. 
This kind of learning is well represented by the fable of 
Ixion, c who, thinking to enjoy Juno, the goddess of power, 
embraced a cloud, and thence produced centaurs and chi- 
maeras ; for so those who, with a hot and impotent desire, 
are carried to such things as they see only through the 
fumes and clouds of imagination, instead of producing works, 
beget nothing but vain hopes and monstrous opinions. This 
degenerate natural magic has also an effect like certain 
sleepy medicines which procure pleasing dreams; for so it 
first lays the understanding asleep, by introducing specific 
properties and occult virtues, — whence men are no longer 
attentive to the discovery of real causes, but rest satisfied in 
such indolent and weak opinions; -and thus it insinuates 
numberless pleasing fictions, like so many dreams. 

And here we may properly observe, that those sciences 
which depend too much upon fancy and faith, as this dege- 
nerate magic, alchymy, and astrology, have their means and 
their theory more monstrous than their end and action. 
The conversion of quicksilver into gold is hard to conceive, 
" Pind. Pyth. ii. 21. 
2 L 



146 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK III. 

though it may much more probably be effected by a man 
acquainted with the nature of gravity, colour, malleability. 
fixedness, volatility, the principles of metals and menstruums, 
than by one who is ignorant of these natures, by the bare 
projection of a few grains of the elixir. The same may be 
understood of the prolongation of youth or retarding of old 
age, which may more rationally be expected by dietary, re- 
gimen, bathings, anointing, and proper medicines, directed 
hj an accurate knowledge of the human frame, the nature of 
rarefaction, sustention, assimilation, and the reciprocal action 
of the mind upon the body, than by a few drops or scruples 
of some precious liquor or quintessence. But men are so 
headstrong, and notional, as not only to promise themselves 
things impossible, but also hope to obtain the most difficult 
ends without labour or exertion. 

This practical doctrine of nature requires two appendages 
of very great consequence. The first is, that an inventory 
be made of the stock of mankind, containing their whole 
possessions and fortunes, whether proceeding from nature or 
art, with the addition also of things formerly known, but 
now lost; so that he who goes upon new discoveries may 
have a knowledge of what has already been done. This 
inventory will be the more artificial and useful, if it also 
contain things of every kind, which, according to common 
opinion, are impossible; as likewise such as seemed next to 
impossible, yet have been effected, the one to whet the 
human invention, and the other to direct it, so that from 
these optatives and potentials actives may the more readily 
be deduced. 

The second thing is, that a calendar be made of such ex- 
periments as are most extensively useful, and that lead to 
the discovery of others. For example, the experiment of 
artificial freezing, by means of ice and bay salt, is of infinite 
extent, and discovers a secret method of condensation of great 
service to mankind ; fire is ready at hand for rarefaction, 
but the means of condensation are wanted. And it would 
greatly shorten the way to discoveries, to have a particular 
catalogue of these leading experiments. 



CHAP. VI.] ADVANTAGES OF MATHEMATICS. 147 



CHAPTER VI. 

The Great Appendix of Natural Philosophy both Speculative and Prac- 
tical. Mathematics. Its Proper Position not among the Substantial 
Sciences, but in their Appendix. Mathematics divided into Pure 
and Mixed. 

It was well observed by Aristotle, that physics and ma- 
thematics produce practice, or mechanics ; a therefore, as we 
have treated both the speculative and practical part of the 
doctrine of nature, we should also consider mathematics- as 
an auxiliary science to both, which being revived into philo- 
sophy, comes in as a third ]iart after physics and metaphysics, 
But upon due recollection, if we designed it as a substantial 
and principal science, it were more agreeable to method and 
the nature of the thing to make it a part of metaphysics. 
For quantity, the subject of mathematics applied to matter, 
is as the dose of nature, and productive of numerous effects 
in natural things, and therefore ought to be reckoned among 
essential forms. And so much did the power of figures and 
numbers prevail with the ancients, that Democritus chiefly 
placed the principles of the variety of things in the figures 
of their atoms ; b and Pythagoras asserted that the nature of 
things consisted of numbers. Thus much is true, that of 
natural forms, such as we understand them, quantity is the 
most abstracted and separable from matter; and for this 
reason it has been more carefully cultivated and examined 
into by mankind than any other forms, which are all of 
them more immersed in matter. For, as to the great disad- 
vantage of the sciences, it is natural for men's minds to 
delight more in the open fields of generals, than in the in- 
closures of particulars, notliing is found more agreeable than 
mathematics, which fully gratifies this appetite of expatiating 
and ranging at large. But as we regard not only truth and 
order, but also the benefits and advantages of mankind, it 
seems best, since mathematics is of great use in physics, 
metaphysics, mechanics, and magics, to make it an appendage 
or auxiliary to them all. And this we are in some measure 
obliged to do, from the fondness and towering notions of 
mathematicians, who would have their science preside over 

* Metaphysics, i. and xi. b Laertius, Life of Democritus. 

c Iamblicus, Life of Pythagoras. 

l2 



148 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK III. 

physics. It is a strange fatality, that mathematics and 
logic, which ought to be but handmaids to physics, should 
boast their certainty before it, and even exercise dominion 
against it. But the place and dignity of this science is a 
secondary consideration with regard to the thing itself. 

Mathematics is either pure or mixed. To the pure belong 
the sciences employed about quantity, wholly abstracted 
from matter and physical axioms. This has two parts, — 
geometry and arithmetic ; the one regarding continued, and 
the other discrete quantity. These two sciences have been 
cultivated with very great subtilty and application; but in 
plain geometry there has nothing considerable been added 
to the labours of Euclid, though he lived many ages since. 
The doctrine of solids has not been prosecuted and extended 
equal to its use and excellency, neither by the ancients nor 
the moderns ; and in arithmetic there is still wanting a suffi- 
cient variety of short and commodious methods of calcula- 
tion, especially with regard to progressions, whose use in 
physics is very considerable. d Neither is algebra brought to 

d In nature no two beings exist perfectly equal, and the same being 
cannot retain its qualities unchanged for an instant of time together. 
In the universe everything moves in a constant progression and series. 
and it probably was the presentiment of this truth that led the greatest 
mathematicians after Bacon's time to turn nearly all their attention to 
this department of mathematics. Beyond the analogy, however, there 
is nothing in these phenomena which has any relation with the reality 
of things ; nor have any philosophers since Flud's day ever dealt with 
them except as pure conditional verities. With data sufficiently deter- 
minate, we may approach the solution of any question to which they 
refer ; but if these facts are not given, the problem must remain unre- 
solved. The mathematician may draw consequences ; but it is not 
allowed him to form principles, and if he attempt to apply figures to 
any hypothesis not warranted by facts, he must be content with the 
fate of the Samian who constructed the world out of arithmetic, and 
has been rewarded by the derision of ages for his pains. 

No part of learning has perhaps been more cultivated since this 
author wrote than mathematics, as every other science, or the body of 
philosophy itself, seems rendered mathematical. The doctrine of solids 
has been improved by several ; the shorter ways of calculation here 
noted as deficient are in a great measure supplied by the invention 
of logarithms. Algebra has been so far improved and applied as to 
rival, or almost prejudice, the ancient geometry; add to this the new 
discoveries of the Method of Fluxions, the Method of Tangents, the 
Doctrine of Infinites, the Squaring of Curves, &c. For the general 
system of mathematical learning, see " Wolfii Elementa Matheseos Uni- 



CHAP. VI.] PURE AND MIXED MATHEMATICS. . 149 

perfection. As for the Pythagorical and mystical arithmetic, 
which began to be recovered from Proclus, e and certain 
remains of Euclid, it is a speculative excursion, the mind 
having this misfortune, that when it proves unequal to solid 
and useful things, it spends itself upon such as are unpro- 
fitable. 

Mixed mathematics has for its subject axioms and the 
parts of physics, and considers quantity so far as may be 
assisting to illustrate, demonstrate, and actuate those; for 
without the help of mathematics many parts of nature could 
neither be sufficiently comprehended, clearly demonstrated, 
nor dexterously fitted for use. And of this kind are per- 
spective, music, astronomy, cosmography, architecture, and 
mechanics. In mixed mathematics we at present find no 
entire parts deficient, but toretell there will be many found 
hereafter, if men are not wanting to themselves ; for if phy- 
sics be daily improving, and drawing out new axioms, it will 
continually be wanting fresh assistances from mathematics ; 
so that the parts of mixed mathematics must gradually grow 
more numerous. 

We have now gone through the physical sciences, and 
marked out the waste ground in them. If, however, we 
have departed from the ancient and received opinions, and 
arrayed opponents against us, we have not affected contra- 
diction, and therefore will not enter into the lists of conten- 
tion. If we have spoken the truth, 

" Non canimus surdis ; respondent omnia sylvse," f — 
the voice of nature will cry it up, though the voice ot 
man should cry it down ; and as Alexander Borgia was wont 
to say of the expedition of the French against Naples, that 
they came with chalk in their hands to mark up their lodg- 

versae," in two volumes 4to., printed at Halle in the year 1715 ; or for a 
more cursory view, Father Castel's " Mathematique Universelle, " pub- 
lished in the year 1731 ; but for the history of mathematics, see Vossius 
" De Universse Matheseos Natura et Constitution ;" the "Almagest" of 
Kicciolus; Morhof's " Polyhist. Mathemat.;" andWolfius's "Commen- 
tatio de Scriptis Mathematicis," at the end of the second volume of his 
"Elementa Matheseos Universae;" Montucla's "Hist. Math.;" and De 
la Croix's " Analysis ot Infinites." Ed. 

e He ought to have said from Iamblicus. Proclus was, like himself, 
totally ignorant even of the little mathematical learning extant in hia 
day. Ed, f Virg. Eclogues, x. 8. 



150 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK IV. 

ings, and not with weapons to fight, so we prefer that entry 
of truth which comes peaceably, when the minds of men 
capable of lodging so great a guest are signed as it were with 
chalk, than that which comes with pugnacity, and forces its 
way by contentions and controversies. Wherefore, having 
gone through the two parts of philosophy that relate to God 
and to Nature, we come to the third, which is man himself. 



]?OUItTH BOOK. 



CHAPTER I. 

Division of the Knowledge of Man into Human and Civil Philosophy. 
Human Philosophy divided into the Doctrine of the Body and Soul. 
The Construction of one General Science, including the Nature and 
State of Man. The latter divided into the Doctrine of the Human 
Person and the Connection of the Soul with the Body. Division of 
the Doctrine of the Person of Man into that of his Miseries and Pre- 
rogatives. Division of the Relations between the Soul and the Body 
into the Doctrines of Indications and Impressions. Physiognomy and 
the Interpretation of Dreams assigned to the Doctrine of Indications. 

If any man, excellent king, shall assault or wound me for 
any of these precepts, let him know that he infringes the 
code of military honour ; for in addition to being under the 
gracious protection of your Majesty, I do not begin the 
fight, but am only one of those trumpeters of whom Homer 
speaks, — - , 

XaipeTE Krjpviceg Aloq ayyeXoi, rjde Kal avcpojv,* — 

who pass inviolate even between enraged armies. .Nor does 
our trumpet summon men to tear one another in frenzied 
combat, but rather to conclude a peace, that they who are 
now divided may direct their united forces against nature 
herself; and by taking her high towers and dismantling her 
fortified holds, enlarge as far as God will permit the bor- 
ders of man's dominion. We now come to the knowledge of 
ourselves, whither we are directed by the ancients, b which 

a Iliad, i. 334. b Plato's Alcibiades. 



CHAP. I.] THE DOCTBINE OF MAN TWOFOLD. 151 

merits a closer examination, since the knowledge of himself 
is to man the end and time of the sciences, of which nature 
only forms a portion. And here we must admonish man- 
kind, that all divisions of the sciences are to be understood 
and employed, so as only to mark out and distinguish, not 
tear, separate, or make any solution of continuity in their 
body ; c the contrary practice having rendered particular 
sciences barren, empty, and erroneous, whilst they are not 
fed, supported, and kept right by their common parent. 
Thus we find Cicero complaining of Socrates, that he first 
disjoined philosophy from rhetoric, which is thence become 
a frothy, talkative art. d And it is likewise evident, that 
although the opinion of Copernicus about the earth's rota- 
tion cannot be confuted by astronomical principles, because 
it agrees with phenomena, yet it may easily be exploded by 
natural philosophy. In like manner the art of medicine, 
without the assistance of natural philosophy, differs but little 
from empiricism. 

The doctrine of man divides itself into two parts, or into 
human and civil philosophy, as it considers man separate, or 
joined in society. Human philosophy consists in the science? 
that regard the body, and those that regard the soul of man. 
But before we descend to a more particular distribution, it 
is proper to make one general science of the nature and 
state of man, which certainly deserves to be freed from the 
rest, and reduced to a science by itself. And this will con- 
sist of such things as are common both to the body and the 
soul. It may, likewise, be divided into two parts ; viz., ac- 
cording to the individual nature of man, and the connection 
of the soul and body. The former we call the doctrine of 
the person of man, and the other the doctrine of union. All 
which, being common and mixed matters, cannot be sepa- 
rately referred to the sciences that regard the body, nor to 
those that regard the soul. 

The doctrine of the human person principally consists in 
two things : the consideration of the miseries of mankind, 
and its prerogatives or excellencies. There are many 
writings, both philosophical and theological, that elegantly 
and copiously bewail the human miseries, and it is an agree- 

c Seneca's Epistles, § 89. d De Oratore. 



152 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK IV, 

able and wholesome topic ; but the prerogatives of man- 
kind are not hitherto described. Pindar, in his praise of 
Hiero, says, with his usual elegance, that he cropped the tops 
of every virtue ; e and methinks it would greatly contribute 
to the encouragement and honour of mankind, to have these 
tops, or utmost extents of human nature, collected from faith- 
ful history : I mean the greatest length whereto human 
nature of itself has ever gone, in the several endowments of 
body and mind. Thus it is said of Caesar, f that he could 
dictate to five amanuenses at once. We read, also, of the 
ancient rhetoricians, as Protagoras and Gorgias ; and of the 
ancient philosophers, as Callisthenes, Possidonius, and Car- 
neades, who could with eloquence and copiousness dispute off 
hand, on either side of an argument, s which shows the 
power of the mind to advantage. So does, also, what Cicero 
relates of his master Archias, viz., that he could make ex- 
tempore a large number of excellent verses upon the com- 
mon transactions of life. It is a great honour to the memory, 
that Cyrus or Scipio could call so many thousands of men by 
their names. 11 Xor are the victories gained in the moral 
virtues less signal than those of the intellectual faculties. 
What an example of patience is that of Anaxarchus, who, 
when put to the torture, bit off his own tongue, and spit it 
in the tyrant's face ! Nor, to come to our own times, is that 
a less example of scorn of suffering, which the murderer of 
the prince of Orange displayed in the midst of his tortures. 
This Burgundian, though scourged with iron thongs and torn 
with red-hot pincers, did not heave a sigh ; and when a broken 
Iragment of the scaffold fell on the heads of one of the by- 
standers, he, even girt around with flames, could not repress 
his laughter. We have many instances of great serenity and 
composure of mind at the time of death, as particularly in 
the centurion mentioned by Tacitus, who being bid by his 
executioner to stretch out his neck, valiantly replied, " I 
would thou wouldst strike as strongly." 1 John, duke of 
Saxony, k whilst playing at chess, received the order for his 

e Pindar, Olymp. i. The triumphs of men, and the summits of, 
numan nature. f Suetonius's Lite. 

s Quintilian's Institutes, iii., and Laertius's Lives. 
h Xenophon's Cyropoedia, v. ; and Quintilian's Institutes, xi. 
1 Annals, xv. 67. 
* Meteren, History of the Civil Wars in the Netherlands. 



CHAP. I.] ACTION OF THE BODY UPON THE SOUL. 153 

execution the following day ; whereupon, turning round to 
one that stood by him, he said, with a smile, " Judge, whether 
so far I am not the winner of the game. For as soon as I 
am dead, he," pointing to his antagonist, " will say that the 
game was his own." Sir Thomas More, the day before his 
execution, being waited upon by his barber, to know if he 
would have his hair off, refused it ; with this answer, that 
" the king and he had a dispute about his head, and till that 
were ended he would bestow no cost upon it." And even 
when he had laid his head upon the block, he raised himself 
again a little, and gently putting his long beard aside, said, 
" This surely has not offended the king." By these examples 
it will appear that the miracles of human nature, and the 
utmost powers and faculties, both of mind and body, are 
what we would have collected into a volume, that should be 
a kind of register of human triumphs. And with regard to 
such a work, we commend the design of Valerius Maximus 
and Pliny, but not their care and choice. 

The doctrine of union, or of the common tie of soul and 
body, has two parts : for as, in all alliances, there is 
mutual intelligence and mutual offices, so the union of the 
mind and body requires a description of the manner wherein 
they discover, and act upon each other by notices, or indica- 
tion and impression. The description by indication has pro- 
duced two arts of prediction : the one honoured with the 
inquiry of Aristotle, and the other with that of Hippocrates. 
And though later ages have debased these arts with super- 
stitious arid fantastical mixtures, yet, w^hen purged and 
truly restored, they have a solid foundation in nature, and 
use in life. The first of these is physiognomy, which, by the 
lineaments of the body, discovers the dispositions of the 
mind ; the second is the interpretation of natural dreams, 
which, from the agitations of the mind, discovers the state 
and dispositions of the body. I find the former deficient 
in one part ; for though Aristotle has, with great ingenuity 
and diligence, treated the structure of the body at rest, he 
dropped the consideration of it in motion or gesture, 1 which is 
no less subject to the observations of art, and more useful 

1 Bacon's memory here fails him ; for Aristotle in his Physiogno- 
mia Corporis in Motu, has treated the matter elaborately, though 
without going much into detail. Ed. 



154 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK IV. 

than the other. For the lineaments of the body show the 
general inclinations and dispositions of the mind, whilst the 
motions of the face, and the gestures of the other parts, not 
only do the same, but also express the present disposition 
and inclination : for, if I may use one of your Majesty's 
most forcible and elegant expressions, " as the tongue applies 
to the ear, so does gesture to the eye." And this is well 
known to many subtile and designing persons, who watch- 
fully observe the countenance and gestures of others, and 
value themselves for their talent of turning such discoveries 
to their own advantage ; and it must be acknowledged an 
excellent way of discovering dissimulation in others, and of 
admonishing men to choose proper times and opportunities 
for their addresses, which is no small part of civil prudence. 
A work upon this doctrine of gesture would not only prove 
useful in particular cases, but serve as a general rule ; for all 
men laugh, weep, blush, frown, &c, alike : and this holds of 
nearly all the more subtile motions. But for chiromancy, it 
is absolutely a vain . thing, and unworthy to be mentioned 
among those we are now treating. 

The interpretation of natural dreams has been much 
laboured ; but mixed with numerous extravagancies. We 
shall here only observe of it, that at present it stands not 
upon its best foundation ; which is, that where the same thing 
happens from an internal cause, as also usually happens from 
an external one, there the external action passes into a dream. 
Thus the stomach may be oppressed by a gross internal 
vapour, as well as by an external weight ; whence those who 
have the night-mare dream that a weight is laid upon them, 
with a great concurrence of circumstances. So, again, the 
viscera being equally tossed by the agitation of the waves at 
sea, as by a collection of wind in the hypochondria, hence 
melancholy persons frequently dream of sailing and tossing 
upon the waters ; and instances of this kind are numerous. 

The second part of the doctrine of union, which we call 
impression, is not yet reduced to an art ; and but occasionally 
mentioned by writers. This also has two parts : as con- 
sidering, 1st, how, and to what degree, the humours and 
constitution of the body may affect the soul, or act upon it ; 
and 2nd, how, and to what degree, the passions and appre- 
hensions of the soul may affect and work upon the body. 



CHAP. I.] ACTION OP THE SOUJCi UPON THE BODY. 155 

The first of these we sometimes find touched in medicine ; 
but it has strangely insinuated itself into religion. Phy- 
sicians prescribe remedies for the diseases of the mind, viz., 
madness, melancholy, &c, as also to cheer the spirits, 
strengthen the memory, <fcc. ; but for diet, choice of meats 
and drinks, washings, and other observances relating to the 
body, they are found immoderately in the sect of the Pytha- 
goreans, the Manichean heresy, and the law of Mahomet. 
There are, also, numerous and strict ordinances in the cere- 
monial law, prohibiting the eating of blood and fat, and dis- 
tinguishing the unclean animals from the clean for food. m 
Even the Christian religion, though it has thrown off the 
veil of ceremonies, still retains the use of fasting, abstinence, 
and other things that regard the subjection and humiliation 
of the body ; as things not merely ritual, but advantageous. 
The root of all these ordinances, besides the ceremony and 
exercise of obedience, is, that the soul should sympathize and 
suffer with the body. And if any man of weaker judgment 
thinks that such macerations question the immortality, or 
derogate from the sovereignty of the soul, let him find an 
answer in the instances, either of an infant in its mother's 
womb, which shares in the vicissitudes, and yet is distinct 
from its mother's body, or of monarch s, who, though in 
possession of absolute power, are frequently influenced and 
swayed by their servants. 

The other part, which considers the operations of the soul 
upon the body, has likewise been received into medicine ; 
for every prudent physician regards the accidents of the 
mind as a principal thing in his cures, that greatly pro- 
mote or hinder the effects of all other remedies. But one 
particular has been hitherto slightly touched, or not well 
examined, as its usefulness and abstruse nature require ; 
viz., how far a fixed and riveted imagination may alter the 
body of the imaginant ; for though this has a manifest power 
to hurt, it does not follow, it has the same to relieve : no 
more than because an air may be so pestilent as suddenly to 
destroy, another air should be so wholesome as suddenly to 
recover. This would be an inquiry of noble use \ but, as 
Socrates would say, it requires a Delian diver, for it is deep 
plunged. n 

m Deut. xii. n Laertius's Life. 



156 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING, [BOOK IV. 

But among these doctrines of union, or consent of soul and 
body, there is none more necessary than an inquiry into the 
proper seat and habitation of each faculty of the soul in 
the body and its organs. Some, indeed, have prosecuted 
this subject ; but all usually delivered upon it is either con- 
troverted or slightly examined, so as to require more pains 
and accuracy. The opinion of Plato, which seats the under- 
standing in the brain, courage in the heart, and sensuality 
in the liver, should neither be totally rejected nor fondly 
received. 



CHAPTER II. 

Division of the Knowledge of the Human Body into the Medicinal, 
Cosmetic, Athletic, and the Voluptuary Arts. Division of Medicine 
into Three Functions : viz., the Preservation oi Health, the Cure of 
Diseases, and the Prolongation oi Life. The last distinct from the 
two former. 

The doctrine of the human body divides itself according 
to the perfections of the body, whereto it is subservient. 
These perfections are four: viz., 1st, health; 2nd, comeliness; 
3rd, strength ; and 4th, pleasure : to which correspond as 
relatives: 1st, the arts of medicine; 2nd, beautifying; 3rd, 
gymnastics ; and 4th, the art of elegance, which Tacitus calls 
eruditum luxum. a Medicine is a noble art, and honourably 
descended, according to the poets, who make Apollo the 
primary god, and his son .ZEsculapius, whom they also deify, 
the first professor thereof : for as, in natural things, the sun 
is the author and fountain of life, so the physician, who 
preserves life, seems a second origin thereof. But medicine 
receives far greater honour from the works of our Saviour, 
who was physician both to soul and body, and made the 
latter the standing subject of his miracles, as the soul was 
the constant subject of his doctrine. 

Of all the things that nature has created, the human body 
is most capable of relief, though this relief be the most liable 
to error. For as the subtilty and variety of the subject 
affords many opportunities of cure, so likewise a great facility 
of mistake. And, therefore, as this art, especially at present, 

° Plato's Timseus, and Aristotle on the Generation of Animals. 
* Annals, xvi. 18. 



CHAP. II.] MEDICINE MAINLY EMPIRIC. 157 

stands among the most conjectural ones, so the inquiry into 
it is to be placed among the most subtile and difficult. 
Neither are we so senseless as to imagine, with Paracelsus 
and the alchymists, that there are to be found in man's 
body definite analogies to all the variety of specific natures 
in the world, perverting very impertinently that emblem of 
the ancients, that man was a microcosm or model of the 
whole world, to countenance their idle fancies. Of all natural 
bodies, we find none so variously compounded as the human : 
vegetables are nourished by earth and water ; brutes by 
lierbs and fruits ; but man feeds upon the flesh of living- 
creatures, herbs, grain, fruits, different juices and liquors ; 
and these all prepared, preserved, dressed, and mixed in 
endless variety. Besides, the way of living among other 
creatures is more simple, and the affections that act upon 
the body fewer and more uniform ; but man in his habi- 
tation, his exercises, passions, <fec, undergoes numberless 
changes. So that it is evident that the body of man is more 
fermented, compounded, and organized, than any other 
natural substance ; the soul, on the other side, is the simplest, 
as is well expressed : — 

u purumque reliquit 

^Ethereum sensum, atque aurai simplicis ignem;" b — 

so that we need not marvel that the soul so placed enjoys no 
rest, since it is out of its place : " Motus rerum extra locum 
est rapidus, placidus in loco." c This variable and subtile 
composition, and fabric of the human body, makes it like a 
kind of curious musical instrument, easily disordered ; and 
therefore, the poets justly joined music and medicine in 
Apollo; because the office of medicine is to tune the curious 
organ of the human body, and reduce it to harmony. 

The subject being so variable has rendered the art more 
conjectural, and left the more room for imposture. Other 
arts and sciences are. judged of by their power and ability, 
and not by success or events. The lawyer is judged by the 
ability of his pleading, not the issue of the cause; the pilot, 
by directing his course, and not by the fortune of the 
voyage; whilst the physician and statesman have no par- 
ticular act that clearly demonstrates their ability, but are 

b Virg. iEneid, vi. 746. c Arist. on the Heavens. 



158 ADVANCEMENT OF LEAKNING. [jSOOK IV. 

principally censured by the event, which is very up just : for 
who can tell, if a patient die or recover, or a state fall into 
decay, whether the evil is brought about by art or by acci- 
dent ? Whence imposture is frequently extolled, and virtue 
decried. Nay, the weakness and credulity of men is such, 
that they often prefer a mountebank, or a cunning woman, 
to a learned physician. The poets were clear-sighted in 
discerning this folly, when they made .iEsculapius and Circe 
brother and sister, and both children of Apollo, as in the 
verses : — 

" Ille repertorem rnedicinse talis et artis, 

Fulmine Phoebigenam Stygias detrusit ad undas:" 

and similarly of Circe, daughter of the sun : — 

" Dives inaccessis ubi Solis filia lucis 
Urit odoratam nocturna in lumina cedrum." d 

For in all times, witches, old women, and impostors, have, in 
the vulgar opinion, stood competitors with physicians. And 
hence physicians say to themselves, in the words of Solomon, 
" If it befall to me, as befalleth to the fools, why should I 
labour to be more wiseT' e And, therefore, one cannot 
greatly blame them, that they commonly study some other 
art, or science, more than their profession. Hence, we find 
among them poets, antiquaries, critics, politicians, divines, 
and in each more knowing than in medicine. Nor does this 
fall out, because as a certain declamour against physicians 
suggests, f being so often in contact with loathsome spectacles, 
that they seize the first hour of leisure to draw their minds 
from such contemplations. For as they are men — " Nihil 
humani a se alienum putent" — no doubt, because they find 
that mediocrity and excellency in their own art makes no 
difference in profit or reputation : for men's impatience of 
diseases, the solicitations of friends, the sweetness of life, and 
the inducement of hope, make them depend upon physicians 
with all their defects. But when tins is seriously considered, 
it turns rather to the reproach than the excuse of physicians, 
who ought not hence to despair, but to use greater diligence. 
For we see what a power the subtilty of the understanding 
has over the variety both of the matter and form of things, 

d ^Eneid, vii. 772, 11. e Eccles. ii. 15. 

* Agrippa, Scientia Vana. 



CHAP. II.] PHYSICIANS' NEGLECT OF PATHOLOGY. 159 

There is notliing more variable than men's faces, yet we can 
remember infinite distinctions of them ; and a painter with a 
few colours, the practice of the hand and eye, and help of the 
imagination, could imitate thousands if brought before him. 
As variable as voices are, yet we can easily distinguish them 
in different persons, and a mimic will express them to the life. 
Though the sounds of words differ so greatly, yet men can 
reduce them to a few simple letters. And certainly it is not 
the insufficiency or incapacity of the mind, but the remoteness 
of the object that causes these perplexities and distrusts in 
the sciences : for as the sense is apt to mistake at great 
distances, but not near at hand, so is the understanding. 
Men commonly take a view of nature as from a remote emi- 
nence, and are too much amused with generalities : whereas, 
if they would descend, and approach nearer to particulars, 
and more exactly and considerately examine into things 
themselves, they might make more solid and useful disco- 
veries. The remedy of this error, therefore, is to quicken or 
strengthen the organ, and thus to approach the object. No 
doubt, therefore, if physicians, leaving generalities for a 
while, and suspending their assent, w^ould advance towards 
nature, they might become masters of that art of which the 
poet speaks : — 

" Et quoniam variant morbi, variabimus artes 
Mille mali species mille salutis erunt."s 

They should the rather endeavour this, because the philo- 
sophies whereon physicians, whether methodists or chemists, 
depend, are trifling, and because medicine, not founded on 
philosophy, is a weak thing. Therefore, as too extensive 
generals, though true, do not bring men home to action, 
there is more danger in such generals as are false in them- 
selves, and seduce instead of directing the mind. Medicine, 
therefore, has been rather professed than laboured, and yet 
more laboured than advanced, as the pains bestowed thereon 
were rather circular than progressive ; for I find great repe- 
tition, and but little new matter, in the writers of physic. 

We divide medicine into three parts, or offices : viz., 1st, 
the preservation of health; 2nd, the cure of diseases; and 3rd, 
the prolongation of life. For this last part, physicians seem 

s Ovid, Kemedia Amoris, 525. 



160 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK IV. 

to think it no capital part of medicine, but confound it with 
the other two ; as supposing, that if diseases be prevented, 
or cured after invasion, long life must follow of course. But, 
then, they do not consider that both preservation and cure 
regard only diseases, and such prolongation of life as is inter- 
cepted by them : whence the means of spinning out the fall 
thread of life, or preventing, for a season, that kind of death 
which gradually steals upon the body by simple resolution, 
and the wasting of age, is a subject that no physician has 
treated suitably to its merit. Let none imagine we are here 
repealing the decrees of fate and Providence, by establishing 
a new office of medicine ; for, doubtless, Providence alike 
dispenses all kinds of deaths, whether they proceed from 
violence, diseases, or the course and period of age ; yet 
without excluding the use of remedies and preventions, for 
art and industry do not here overrule, but administer to 
nature and fate. 

Many have unskilfully written upon the preservation of 
health, particularly by attributing too much to the choice, 
and too little to the quantity of meats. As to quantity, 
they, like the moral philosophers, highly commend mode- 
ration ; whereas, both fasting changed to custom, and fall 
feeding, where a man is used to it, are better preservatives 
of health than those mediocrities they recommend, which 
commonly dispirit nature, and unfit her to bear excess, or 
want, upon occasion. And for the several exercises, which 
greatly conduce to the preservation of health, no physician 
has well distinguished or observed them, though there- be 
oscarce any tendency to a disease, that may not be corrected 
by some appropriate exercise. Thus bowling is suited to 
the diseases of the kidneys, shooting with the long bow to 
those of the lungs, walking and riding to those of the 
stomach, &c. 

Great pains have been bestowed upon the cure of diseases, 
but to small purpose. This part comprehends the know- 
ledge of the diseases incident to the human body, together 
with their causes, symptoms, and cures. In this second 
office of medicine there are many deficiencies. And first, we 
may note the discontinuance of that useful method of Hip- 
pocrates, 11 in writing narratives of particular cures with 
h Narrationes Medicates. 



CHAP. II.] PHYSICIANS' NEGLECT OF ANATOMY. 161 

diligence and exactness, containing the nature, the cure, and 
event of the distemper. And this remarkable precedent of 
one accounted the father of his art, need not to be backed 
with examples derived from other arts, as from the prudent 
practice of the lawyers, who religiously enter down the more 
eminent cases and new decisions, the better to prepare and 
direct* themselves in future. This continuation, therefore, of 
medicinal reports we find deficient, especially in form of an 
entire body, digested with proper care and judgment. But 
we do not mean, that this work should extend to every com- 
mon case that happens every day, which were an infinite 
labour, and to little purpose ; nor yet to exclude all but pro- 
digies and wonders, as several have done : for many things 
are new in their manner and circumstances, which are not 
new in their kind ; and he who looks attentively will find 
many particulars worthy of observation, in what seems 
vulgar. 

So in anatomy, the general parts of the human body are 
diligently observed, and even to niceness : but as to the 
variety found in different bodies, here the diligence of phy- 
sicians fails. And, therefore, though simple anatomy has 
been fully and clearly handled, yet comparative anatomy is 
deficient. For anatomists have carefully examined into all 
the parts, their consistencies, figures, and situations; but 
pass over the different figure and state of those parts in 
different persons. The reason of this defect I take to be, 
that the former inquiry may terminate upon seeing two or 
three bodies dissected ; but the other being comparative, and 
casual, requires attentive and strict application to many 
different dissections : besides, the first is a subject wherein 
learned, anatomists may show themselves to their audience ; 
but the other a rigorous knowledge, to be acquired only by 
silent and long experience. And no doubt but the internal 
parts, for variety and proportions, are little inferior to the 
external ; and that hearts, livers, and stomachs, are as dif- 
ferent in men, as foreheads, noses, and ears. And in these 
differences of the internal parts are often found the imme- 
diate causes of many diseases, which physicians not observing, 
sometimes unjustly accuse the humours, when the fault lies 
only in the mechanic structure of a part. And in such dis- 
eases it is in vain to use alteratives, as the case admits not 
2 M 



162 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK IV. 

of being altered by tliem, but must be affected, accommo- 
dated, or palliated by a regimen, and familiar medicines. 

Again, comparative anatomy requires accurate observations 
upon all the humours, and the marks and impressions of 
diseases in different bodies upon dissection ; for the humours 
are commonly passed over in anatomy, as loathsome and ex- 
crement itious things; whereas it is highly useful and necessary 
to note their nature and the various kinds that may some- 
times be found in the human body, in what cavities they 
principally lodge, and with what advantage, disadvantage, and 
the like. So the marks and impressions of diseases, and the 
changes and devastations they bring upon the internal parts, 
are to be diligently observed in different dissections ; viz. 
imposthumes, ulcerations, solutions of continuity, putrefac- 
tions, corrosions, consumptions, contractions, extensions, con- 
vulsions, luxations, dislocations, obstructions, repletions, 
tumours ; and preternatural excrescences, as stones, car- 
nosities, wens, worms, <fcc., all which should be very carefully 
exa mined, and orderly digested in the comparative anatomy 
we speak of ; and the experiments of several physicians be 
here collected and compared together. But this variety of 
accidents, is by anatomists either slightly touched or else 
passed over in silence. 

That defect in anatomy, owing to its not having been 
practised upon live bodies, needs not be spoken to, the thing 
itself being odious, cruel, and justly condemned by Celsus ; ! 
yet the observation of the ancients is true, that many subtile 
pores, passages, and perforations appear not upon dissection, 
because they are closed and concealed in dead bodies, that 
might be open and manifest in live ones. "Wherefore, if we 
would consult the good of mankind, without being guilty 01 
cruelty, this anatomy of live creatures should be entirely 
deserted or left to the casual inspection of chirurgeons, or 
may be sufficiently performed upon living brutes, notwith- 
standing the dissimilitude between their parts and the a 
men, so as to answer the design, provided it be done with 
judgment. 

Physicians, likewise, when they inquire into diseases, find 
so many which they judge incurable, either from their first 

1 De Ee Medica, i. 5. 



CHAP. II.] AKT OF RELIEVING PAIN NEEDED. 163 

appearance, or after a certain period, that the proscriptions 
of Sylla and the Triumvirate were trifling to the proscrip- 
tions of the physicians, by which, with an unjust sentence, 
they deliver men over to death ; numbers whereof, however, 
escape with less difficulty than under the Roman proscrip- 
tions. A work, therefore, is wanting upon the cures ot 
reputed incurable diseases, that physicians of eminence and 
resolution may be encouraged and excited to pursue this 
matter as far as the nature of things will permit ; since to 
pronounce diseases incurable, is to establish negligence and 
carelessness, as it were by a law, and screen ignorance Irom 
reproach. 

And farther, we esteem it the office of a physician to 
mitigate the pains and tortures of diseases, as well as to 
restore health \ and this not only when such a mitigation, as 
of a dangerous symptom, may conduce to recovery ; but also, 
when there being no farther hopes of recovery, it can only 
serve to make the passage out of life more calm and easy. 
For that complacency in death, which Augustus Caesar so 
much desired, is no small felicity. k This was also observed 
in the death of Antoninus Pius, who seemed not so much to 
die as to fall into a deep and pleasing sleep. And it is 
delivered of Epicurus, that he procured himself this easy 
departure; for after his disease was judged desperate, he 
intoxicated himself with wine, and died in that condition, 
which gave rise to the epigram : — 

" Hinc Stygias ebrius transit aquas." 1 

But the physicians of our times make a scruple of attending 
the patient after the disease is thought past cure, though, in 
my judgment, if they were not wanting to their own pro- 
fession and to humanity itself, they should here give their 
attendance to improve their skill, and make the dying person 
depart with greater ease and tranquillity. We therefore set 
down as deficient an inquiry after a method of relieving the 
agonies of the dying, calling it by the name of euthanasia 
exteriori, to distinguish it from the internal composure, pro- 
cured to the soul in death. 

Again, we generally find this deficiency in the cures of 
diseases, that though the present physicians tolerably pursue 

h Suetonius's Life Aug. Cses. 100. l Laertius's Life Epic. x. § 15. 

m2 



164 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK IV. 

the general intentions of cures, yet they have no particular 
medicines, which, by a specific property regard particular 
diseases ; for they lose the benefit of traditions and approved 
experience by their authoritative procedure in adding, taking 
away, and changing the ingredients of their receipts at 
pleasure, after the manner of apothecaries substituting one 
thing for another, and thus haughtily commanding medicine, 
so that medicine can no longer command the disease. For 
except Yenice treacle, mithridate, diascordium, the confection 
of alkermes, and a few more, they commonly tie themselves 
strictly to no certain receipts : the other saleable preparations 
of the shops being in readiness, rather for general purposes, 
than accommodated to any particular cures ; for they do not 
principally regard some one disease, but have a general 
virtue of opening obstructions, promoting concoction, &a 
And hence it chiefly proceeds, that empirics and women are 
often more successful in their cures than learned physicians, 
because the former keep strictly and invariably to the use of 
experienced medicines, without altering their compositions. 
I remember a famous Jew physician in England would say, 
■" Your Eiu*opean physicians are indeed men of learning, but 
they know nothing of particular cures for diseases." And he 
would sometimes jest a little irreverently, and say, " Our 
physicians were like bishops, that had the keys of binding and 
loosing, but no more." To be serious ; it might be of great 
consequence if some physicians, eminent for learning and 
practice, would compile a work of approved and experienced 
medicines in particular diseases. Eor though one might 
speciously pretend, that a learned physician should rather 
suit his medicines occasionally, as the constitution of the 
patient, his age, customs, the seasons, &c. require, than rest 
npon any certain prescriptions ; yet this is a fallacious 
opinion that underrates experience and overrates human 
judgment. And as those persons in the Eoman state were 
the most serviceable, who being either consuls, favoured the 
people, or tribunes, and inclined to the senate ; so are those 
the best physicians, who being either learned, duly value the 
traditions of experience ; or men of eminent practice, that 
do not despise methods and the general principles of the art. 
But if medicines require, at anytime, to be qualified, this 
may rather be done in the vehicles than in the body of the 



.P. II.] HASTY DESPAIR OF CUR J 165 

medicine, where nothing should be altered without apparent 
Therefore, this part of physic which treats or 
authentic and positive remedies, we note as deficient ; but 
the 1 of supplying it is to be undertaken with great 

judgment, and as by a committee of physicians, chosen for 
that purpose. 

And for the preparation of medicines ; it seems strange, 

- mineral ones have been so celebrated by chei 

though safer for external than internal use, that nobody 

hath hitherto attempted any artificial imitations of natural 

- and medicinal springs, whilst it is acknowledged that 

these receive their vir »m the mineral veins through 

which they .nd especially since human industry can, 

itain separations, discover with what kind of minerals 

such waters are impregnated, as whether by sulphur, vitrol, 

iron, 6:c. And if these natural impregnations of waters are 

reducible to artificial compositions, it would then be in the 

power of make more kinds of them occasionally, and 

at the same time to regulate their temperature at pleasure. 

therefore, of medicine, concerning the artificial 

imitation of natural hatha and springs, we Bet down as 

ud recommend as an es well as useful 

undertaking 

The last deficiency we shall mention seems to us of great 

importance ; viz.. that the methods of cure in use are too 

short to effect anything that is difficult or very considerable. 

it is rather vain and flattering, than just and rational, to 

expect that any medicine should be so effectual, or so sac 

fill, as by the sole use thereof to work any great cure. It 

must be a powerful discourse, which though often repeated, 

should c I any deep-rooted and inveterate vice of the 

mind. Such miracles are not to be expected : but the 

things of greatest efficacy in nature, are order, perseverance, 

and an artificial change of applications, which, though they 

require exact judgment to prescribe, and precise observance 

How, yet ti iply recompensed by the great efleets 

produce. To see the daily lab ours of physicians in their 

Stations, and prescriptions, one would think that 

pursued the cure, and went directly in a 

k about it; but whoever looks attentively 

tions and directions, will find, that the 



1GG ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [COOK IV. 

most of what tliey do is full of uncertainty, wavering, and 
irresolution, without any certain view or fore-knowledge of 
the course of the cure. Whereas they should from the first, 
after having fully and perfectly discovered the disease, choose 
and resolve upon some regular process or series of cure, and 
not depart irom it without sufficient reason. Thus physicians 
should know, for example, that perhaps three or four reme- 
dies rightly prescribed in an inveterate disease, and taken in 
due order, and at due distances of time, may perform a cure; 
and yet the same remedies taken independently of each 
other, in an inverted order, or not at stated periods, might 
prove absolutely prejudicial. Though we mean not, that 
every scrupulous and superstitious method of cure should be 
esteemed the best, but that the way should be as exact as it 
is confined and difficult. . And this part of medicine we note 
as deficient, under the name of the physicians' clue or direc- 
tory. And these are the things wanting in the doctrine of 
medicine, for the cure of diseases ; but there still remains one 
thing more, and of greater use than all the rest; viz., a 
genuine and active natural philosophy, whereon to build the 
science of physic. 

We make the third part of medicine regard the pro- 
longation of life : this is a new part, and deficient, though 
the most noble of all ; for if it may be supplied, medicine 
will not then be wholly versed in sordid cures, nor physicians 
be honoured only for necessity, but as dispensers of the 
greatest earthly happiness that could well be conferred on 
mortals ; for though the world be but as a wilderness to a 
Christian travelling through it to the promised land, yet it 
would be an instance of the divine favour, that our clothing, 
that is, our bodies, should be little worn while we sojourn 
here. And as this is a capital part of physic, and as we 
note it for deficient, we shall lay down some directions 
about it. 

And first, no writer extant upon this subject has made any 
great or useful discovery therein. Aristotle. 111 indeed, has left 
us a short memoir, wherein there are some admonitions after 
his manner, which he supposes to be all that can be said of 
the matter ; but the moderns have here written so weakly and 

m De Lonsitudine et Kovitate Vitas. 



CHAP. II.] AST OF PROLONGING LIFE. 167 

superstitiously, that tlie subject itself, through their vanity, 
is reputed vain and senseless. 2. The very intentions of 
physicians upon this head are of no validity, but rather lead 
from the point than direct to it. For they talk as if death 
consisted in a destitution of heat and moisture, and therefore 
that natural heat should be comforted, and radical moisture 
cherished ; as if the work were to be effected by broths, 
lettuce, and mallows ; or again, by spices, generous wines, 
spirits, or chemical oils ; all which rather do hurt than good. 
3. We admonish mankind to cease their trifling, and not 
weakly imagine that such a great work as retarding the 
course of nature can be effected by a morning's draught, the 
use of any costly medicines, pearls, or aurum potabile itself ; 
but be assured, that the prolongation of life is a laborious 
work, that requires many kinds of remedies, and a proper 
continuation and intermixture thereof ; for it were stupidity 
to expect, that what was never yet done, should be effected, 
otherwise than by means hitherto unattempted. 4. Lastly, 
we admonish them rightly to observe and distinguish betwixt 
what conduces to health, and what to a long life \ for some 
things, though they exhilarate the spirits, strengthen the 
faculties, and prevent diseases, are yet destructive to life, 
and, without sickness, bring on a wasting old age ; whilst 
there are others which prolong life and prevent decay, though 
not to be used without danger to health ; so that when 
employed for the prolongation of life, such inconveniences 
must be guarded against, as might otherwise happen upon 
using them. 

Things seem to us preservable either in their own sub- 
stance or by repair ; in their own substance, as a fly, or an 
ant, in amber ; a flower, an apple, &c. in conservatories of 
snow ; or a corps of balsam ; by repair, as in flame and 
mechanic engines. He who attempts to prolong life, must 
practise both these methods together ; for separate, their 
force is less. The human body must be preserved as bodies 
inanimate are ; again, as flame ; and lastly, in some measure 
as machines are preserved. There are, therefore, three inten- 
tions for the prolongation of life; viz., 1. to hinder waste ; 
2. secure a good repair ; and 3. to renew what begins to decay. 
I. Waste is caused by two depredations ; viz., that of the 
internal spirit, and that of the external air ; and both are 



168 ADVANCEMENT OF LEAKNING. [BOOK IV. 

prevented two ways; viz., by making these agents less pre- 
datory, or the patients, that is the juices of the body, less 
apt to be preyed on. The spirit is rendered less predatory, 
if either its substance be condensed ; as, 1. by the use of 
opiates, preparations of nitre, and in contri station ; or, 2. if 
it be lessened in quantity, as by fasting and diet ; and 3. if 
it be moderated in its motion, as by rest and quiet. The 
ambient air becomes less predatory, either when it is less 
heated by the sun, as in the cold countries, caves, hills ; or 
kept from the body, as by close skins, the plumage of birds, 
and the use of oil and unguents, without spices. The juices 
of the body are rendered less subject to be preyed on, if made 
more hardy, or more oleaginous, as by a rough astringent 
diet, living in the cold, robust exercises, the use of certain 
mineral baths, sweet things, and abstaining from such as are 
salt or acid ; but especially by means of such drinks as con- 
sist of subtile parts, yet. without acrimony or tartness. 
II. Repair is procured by nourishment, and nourishment is 
promoted four ways : 1. by forwarding internal concoction, 
which drives forth the nourishment, as by medicines that 
invigorate the principal viscera ; 2. by exciting the external 
parts to attract the nourishment, as by exercise, proper 
frictions, unctions, and baths ; 3. by preparing the aliment 
itself, that it may more easily insinuate, and require less 
digestion ; as in many artificial ways of preparing meats, 
drinks, bread, and reducing the effects of these three to one : 
again, 4. by the last act of assimilation, as in seasonable sleep 
and external applications. III. The renovation of parts 
worn out is performed two ways ; either by softening the 
habit of the body, as with suppling applications, in the way 
of bath, plaster, or unction, of such qualities as to insinuate 
into the parts, but extract nothing from them ; or by dis- 
charging the old, and substituting new moisture, as in season- 
able and repeated purging, bleeding, and attenuating diets, 
which restore the bloom of the body. 

Several rules for the conduct of the work are derivable 
from these indications ; but three of the more principal are 
the following. And first, prolongation of life is rather to be 
expected from stated diets, than from any common regimen 
of food, or the virtues of particular medicines ; for those 
things that have force enough to turn back the course of 



CHAP. II.] DUTY OF ATTENTION TO THE BODY. 169 

nature, are commonly too violent to be compounded into a 
medicine, much more to be mixed with the ordinary food, 
and must therefore be administered orderly, regularly, and 
at set periods. 2. "We next lay it down as a rule, that the 
prolongation of life be expected, rather from working upon 
the spirits, and mollifying the parts, than from the manner 
of alimentation. For as the human body, and the internal 
structure thereof, may suffer from three things, viz. the 
spirits, the parts, and aliments ; the way of prolonging life 
by means of alimentation is tedious, indirect, and winding ; 
but the ways of working upon the spirits and the parts, 
much shorter ; for the spirits are suddenly affected, both by 
effluvia and the passions, which may work strangely upon 
them i and the parts also by baths, unguents, or plasters, 
which will likewise have sudden impressions. 3. Our last 
precept is, that the softening of the external parts be 
attempted by such things as are penetrating, astringent, and 
of the same nature with the body ; the latter are readily 
received and entertained, and properly soften ; and pene- 
trating things are as vehicles to those that mollify, and more 
easily convey, and deeply impress the virtue thereof ; whilst 
themselves also, in some measure, operate upon the parts : 
but astringents keep in the virtue of them both, and some- 
what fix it, and also stop perspiration, which would otherwise 
be contrary to mollifying, as sending out the moisture ; there- 
fore the whole affair is to be effected by these three means 
used in order and succession, rather than together. Observe 
only, that it is not the intention of mollifying to nourish the 
parts externally, but only to render them more capable of 
nourishment ; for dry things are less disposed to assimilate. 
And so much for the prolongation of life, which we make 
the third, or a new part of medicine. 

The art of decoration, or beautifying, has two parts, civil 
and effeminate. For cleanliness and decency of the body 
were always allowed to proceed from moral modesty and 
reverence ; first, towards God, whose creatures we are ; next, 
towards society, wherein we live ; and lastly, towards our- 
selves, whom we ought to reverence still more than others. 
But false decorations, fucuses, and pigments, deserve the 
imperfections that constantly attend them ; being neither 
exquisite enough to deceive, nor commodious in application, 



170 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK IV. 

nor wholesome in their use. And it is much that this 
depraved custom of painting the face should so long escape 
the penal laws both of the church and state, which have been 
very severe against luxury in apparel and effeminate trim- 
ming of the hair. We read of Jezebel, that she painted her 
face ; but not so of Esther and Judith. 

We take gymnastics, in a large sense, to signify whatever 
relates to the liability whereto the human body may be 
brought, whether of activity or suffering. Activity has two 
parts, strength and swiftness ; so has endurance or suffering, 
viz., with regard to natural wants, and fortitude under 
torture. Of all these, we have many remarkable instances in 
the practices of rope-dancers, the hardy lives of savages, sur- 
prising strength of lunatics, and the constancy and resolution 
of many under exquisite torments. Any other faculties that 
fall not within the former division, as diving, or the power 
of continuing long under water without respiration, and the 
like, we refer them also to gymnastics. And here, though 
the things themselves are common, yet the philosophy and 
causes thereof are usually neglected, perhaps because men are 
persuaded that such masteries over nature are only obtainable 
either from a peculiar and natural disposition in some men, 
which comes not under rules, or by a constant custom from 
childhood, which is rather imposed than taught. And though 
this be not altogether true, yet it is here of small consequence 
to note any deficiency, for the Olympic games are long since 
ceased, and a mediocrity in these things is sufficient for use, 
whilst excellency in them serves commonly but for mercenary 
show. 

The arts of elegance are divided with respect to the two 
senses of sight and hearing. Painting particularly delights 
the eye ; so do numerous other magnificent arts, relating to 
buildings, gardens, apparel, vessels, gems, &c. Music pleases 
the ear with great variety and apparatus of sounds, voices, 
strings, and instruments ; and anciently water-organs were 
esteemed as great master-pieces in this art, though now 
grown into disuse. The arts which relate to the eye and ear, 
are, above the rest, accounted liberal ; these two senses being 
the more pure, and the sciences thereof more learned, as 
having mathematics to attend them. The one also has some 
relation to the memory and demonstrations ; the other, to 



CHAP. III.] DOCTRIXE OF THE SOUL. 171 

manners and the passions of the mind. The pleasures of the 
other senses, and the arts employed about them, are in less 
repute, as approaching nearer to sensuality than magnificence. 
Unguents, perfumes, the furniture of the table, but princi- 
pally incitements to lust, should rather be censured than 
taught. And it has been well obseryed, that while states 
were in their increase, military arts flourished ; when at 
their heights, the liberal arts ■ but when upon their decline, 
the arts of luxury. With the arts of pleasure, we join also 
the jocular arts : for the deception of the senses may be 
reckoned one of their delights. 

And now, as so many things require to be considered with 
relation to the human body, viz, the parts, humours, functions, 
faculties, accidents, <fcc, since we ought to have an entire 
doctrine of the body of man, which should comprehend them 
all ; yet lest arts should be thus too much multiplied, or 
their ancient limits too much disordered, we receive into the 
system of medicine, the doctrines of the parts, functions, and 
humours of the body; respiration, sleep, generation; the 
foetus, gestation in the womb ; growth, puberty, baldness, 
fatness, and the like ; though these do not properly belong 
either to the preservation of health, the cure of diseases, or 
the prolongation of life, but because the human body is, in 
every respect, the subject of medicine. But for voluntary 
motion and sense, we refer them to the doctrine of the soul 
as two principal parts thereof. And thus we conclude the 
doctrine of the body, which is but as a tabernacle to the 
soul. 



CHAPTER III. 

Division of the Doctrine of the Human Soul into that of the Inspired 
Essence and the Knowledge of the Sensible or Produced Soul. 
Second Division ot the same philosophy into the Doctrine of the 
Substance and the Faculties of the Soul. The Use and Objects of 
the latter. Two Appendices to the Doctrine of the Faculties of the 
Soul : viz. Natural Divination and Fascination (Mesmerism). The 
Faculties of the Sensible Soul divided into those of Motion and Sense. 

Wb now come to the doctrine of the human soul, from 
whose treasures all other doctrines are derived. It has two 
parts, — the one treating of the rational soul, which is divine, 



172 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK IV. 

the other of the irrational soul, which we have in common 
with brutes. Two different emanations of souls are manifest 
in the first creation, the one proceeding from the breath of 
God, the other from the elements. As to the primitive 
emanation of the rational soul, the Scripture says, God 
formed man of the dust of the earth, and breathed into his 
nostrils the breath of life ; but the generation of the irra- 
tional and brutal soul was in these words, — Let the water 
bring forth; let the earth bring forth. And this irrational 
soul in man is only an instrument to the rational one, and has 
the same origin in us as in brutes, viz. the dust of the earth ; 
for it is not said, God formed the body of man of the dust of 
the earth, but God formed man, that is, the whole man, the 
breath of life excepted, of the dust of the earth. We will, 
therefore, style the first part of the general doctrine of the 
human soul the doctrine of the inspired substance, and the 
other part the doctrine of the sensitive or produced soul. 
But as we are here treating wholly of philosophy, we would 
not have borrowed this division from divinity, had it not 
also agreed with the principles of philosophy. For there are 
many excellencies of the human soul above the souls of 
brutes, manifest even to those who philosophize only accord- 
ing to sense. And wherever so many and such great excel- 
lencies are found, a specific difference should always be made. 
We do not, therefore, approve that confused and promis- 
cuous manner of the philosophers in treating the functions 
of the soul, as if the soul of man differed in degree rather 
than species from the soul of brutes, as the sun differs from 
the stars, or gold from other metals. 

There may also be another division of the general doctrine 
of the human soul into the doctrine of the substance and 
faculties of the soul, and that of the use and objects of the 
faculties. And these two divisions being premised, we come 
to particulars. 

The doctrine of the inspired substance, as also of the sub- 
stance of the rational soul, comprehends several inquiries 
with relation to its nature, as whether the soul be native or 
adventitious, separable or inseparable, mortal or immortal ; 
how far it is subject to the laws of matter, how far not, and 
the like. But the points of this kind, though they might be 
more thoroughly sifted in philosophy than hitherto they have 



CHAP. III.] NATURE OF THE SENSITIVE SOUL. 173 

been, yet in the end they must be turned over to religion, for 
determination and decision ; otherwise they will lie exposed 
to various errors and illusions of sense. For as the substance 
of the soul was not, in its creation, extracted or deduced 
from the mass of heaven and earth, but immediately inspired 
by God; and as the laws of heaven and earth are the proper 
subjects of philosophy, no knowledge of the substance of 
the rational soul can be had from philosophy, but must 
be derived from the same Divine inspiration, whence the 
substance thereof originally proceeded. a 

But in the doctrine of the 'sensitive or produced soul, even 
its substance may be justly inquired into, though this in- 
quiry seems hitherto wanting. For of what signifieancy are 
the terms of actus ultimus and forma corporis, and such 
logical trifles, to the knowledge of the soul's substance ? The 
sensitive soul must be allowed a corporeal substance, atte- 
nuated by heat and rendered invisible, as a subtile breath or 
aura, of a flamy and airy nature, having the softness of air 
in receiving impressions, and the activity of fire in exerting 
its action, nourished partly by an oily and partly by a watery 
substance, and difilised through the whole body; but in per- 
fect creatures, residing chiefly in the head, and thence run- 
ning through the , nerves, being fed and recruited by the 
spirituous blood of the arteries, as Telesius b and Ins follower 
Donius in some measure have usefully shown. Therefore let 
this doctrine be more diligently inquired into, c because the 

a To separate God from human reason, appears to be one of the great 
aims of one of the modern schools of philosophy, and sometimes the 
theory has received indirect confirmations from quarters by no means 
favourable to its advocates. Pascal wrote, " Selon les lumieres 
naturelles, nous sommes incapable de connaitre ce que Dieu est." 
In the edition of this philosopher's works, by Voltaire and Condorcet, 
the text was enriched with the addition of the phrase, "Ni s'il est ;" 
and the following note appended to the passage, by Voltaire : — 
" II est etrange que Pascal ait cru qu'on pouvait deviner le peche 
originel par la raison, et qu'il dise qu'on ne peut connaitre par la 
raison si Dieu est." At this specimen of deistic candour, Condorcet 
exclaims, in a subsequent note, "How marvellous to behold Voltaire 
contending with Pascal for the existence of God!" Ed. 

b Kerum Natura, book 5. 

c This inquiry is greatly embroiled by the moderns ; some seeking 
the soul all over the body, some in the blood, some in the animal spirits, 
some in the heart, some in the ventricles 01 the brain, and some, with 
Des Cartes, in the Glandula Pinealis. M. Petit wrote a curious piece 



174 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK IV. 

ignorance of it lias produced superstitious and very corrupt 
opinions, that greatly lessen the dignity of the human soul, 
— such as the transmigration and lustration of souls through 
certain periods of years, and the too near relation in all 
respects of the human soul to the soul of brutes. For this 
soul in brutes is a principal soul, whereof their body is the 
organ ; but in man it is itself an organ of the rational soul, 
and may rather be called by the name spirit than soul. 

The faculties of the soul are well known ; d viz., the under- 
standing, reason, imagination, memory, appetite, will, and 
all those wherewith logic and ethics are concerned. In the 
doctrine of the soul the origin of these faculties must be 
physically treated, as they may be innate and adhering to the 
soul, but their uses and objects are referred to other arts; 
and in this part nothing extraordinary has hitherto appeared, 
though we do not indeed report it as wanting. This part of 
the faculties of the soul has also two appendages, which as 
they have yet been handled, rather present us with smoke 
than any clear flame of truth, — one being the doctrine of 
natural divination, the other of fascination. 

Divination has been anciently and properly divided into 
artificial and natural. The artificial draws its predictions 
by reasoning from the indication of signs; but the natural 
predicts from the internal foresight oi the mind, without the 

relating to this subject, entitled, " De Anima~ Corpori coextensa ; " 
printed at Paris, 1665. See also " Hobokenius de Sede Animse in 
Corpore Humano." Ed, 

d The text is indistinct. We are not told whether the faculties here 
enumerated belong to the produced or to the rational soul. Though 
from the language of the text, and the order of inquiry, the for- 
mer appears to be the most probable opinion : yet we do not see 
how the origin of conscience to which they refer can be physically 
treated, or how the same substance can unite appetite, and the prin- 
ciple to which it is almost invariably opposed. To obviate such diffi- 
culties, Aristotle and Plato made, a similar distinction between the 
rational and the sensitive principle in man, and assigned reason, 
imagination, and memory to the one, while they restricted appetite and 
sensational feeling to the other. Bacon, however, seems to place all 
these faculties in the sensitive soul, and leaves the inspired substance a 
mere breath or aura, without either faculties or functions. By thus 
implying the cogitative power of matter, he has in some measure 
countenanced the dangerous belief of the corruptibility of the human 
soul and its expiration with the body ; at least, sceptics have not been 
slow in putting this interpretation upon his doctrine. Ed. 



CHAP. III.] NATURE OF DIVINATION. 175 

assistance of signs. Artificial divination is of two kinds, — 
one arguing from causes, the other only* from experiments 
conducted by blind authority. The latter is generally super- 
stitious. Such were the heathen doctrines about the inspec- 
tion of entrails, the night of birds, &c. ; and the formal astro- 
logy of the Chaldeans was little better. Both kinds of 
artificial divination spread themselves into various sciences. 
The astrologer has his predictions from the aspects of the 
stars; the physician, too, has his, as to death, recovery, and 
the subsequent symptoms of diseases, from the urine, pulse, 
aspect of the patient, &c. ; the politician also is not without 
his predictions, — "O urbem venalem, et cito perituram si 
emptorem invenerit!" e — the event of which prophecy hap- 
pened soon after, and was first accomplished in Sylla and 
again in Coesar. But the predictions of this kind being not 
to our present purpose, we refer them to their proper arts, 
and shall here only treat of natural divination, proceeding 
from the internal power of the soul. 

This also is of two kinds, — the one native, the other by 
influx. The native rests upon this supposition, that the 
mind abstracted or collected in itself, and not diffused in the 
organs of the body, has from the natural power of its own 
essence some foreknowledge of future things; and this ap- 
pears chiefly in sleep, ecstasies, and the near approach of 
death ; but more rarely in waking, or when the body is in 
health and strength. And this state of the mind is com- 
monly procured or promoted by abstinence, and principally 
such things as withdraw the mind from exercising the func- 
tions of the body, that it may thus enjoy its own nature 
without any external interruption. But divination by influx 
is grounded upon another supposition, viz., that the mind, 
as a mirror, may receive a secondary illumination from the 
foreknowledge of God and spirits, whereto likewise the above- 
mentioned state and regimen of the body are conducive. 
For the same abstraction of the mind causes it more power- 
fully to use its own nature, and renders it more susceptive 
of divine influxes, only in divinations by influx the soul is 
seized with a kind of rapture, and as it were impatience of 

e " O city set to sale, whose destruction is at hand, if it find 
a purchaser ! " uttered by Jugurtha, on leaving Rome. Sallust's 
Jugurtha, 35. 



176 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK IV. 

the Deity's presence, which the ancients called by the name 
of sacred fury, whereas in native divination the soul is 
rather at its ease and free. 

Fascination is the power and intense act of the imagina- 
tion upon the body of another. And here the school of 
Paracelsus, and the pretenders to natural magic, abusively 
so called, have almost made the force and apprehension of 
the imagination equal to the power of faith, and capable 
of working miracles ; others keeping nearer to truth, and 
attentively considering the secret energies and impressions of 
things, the irradiations of the senses, the transmissions of 
thought from one to another, and the conveyances of mag- 
netic virtues, are of opinion that impressions, conveyances, 
and communications, might be made from spirit to spirit, 
because spirit is of all things the most powerful in opera- 
tion and easiest to work on; whence many opinions have 
spread abroad of master spirits, of men ominous and un- 
lucky, of the strokes of love, envy, and the like. And this 
is attended with the inquiry, how the imagination may be 
heightened and fortified ; for if a strong imagination has 
such power, it is worth knowing by what means to exalt 
and raise it. f 

But here a palliative or defence of a great part of cere- 
monial magic would slily and indirectly insinuate itself, under 
a specious pretence that ceremonies, characters, charms, ges- 
ticulations, amulets, and the like, have not their power from 
any tacit or binding contract with evil spirits, but that these 
serve only to strengthen and raise the imagination of such 
as use them, in the same manner as images have prevailed 
in religion for fixing men's minds in the contemplation of 
things and raising the devotion in prayer. But allowing 
the force of imagination to be great, and that ceremonies 
do raise and strengthen it; allowing also, that ceremonies 
may be sincerely used to that end, as a physical remedy, 
without the least design of thereby procuring the assist- 
ance of spirits ; yet ought they still to be held unlawful, 

f The ways of working upon or with the imagination, are touched 
by the author, in his " Sylva Sylvarum," under the article Imagination. 
See more to this purpose in "Des Cartes upon the Passions/' " Ca- 
saubon upon Enthusiasm," Father Malbranche's " Recherche de la 
Ve'rite'," and Lord Shaftesbury's " Letter upon Enthusiasm." Shaw. 



CHAP. III.] VOLUNTARY MOTION AND SENSIBILITY. 177 

because they oppose and contradict that Divine sentence 
passed upon man for sin : " In the sweat of thy brow thou 
shalt eat thy bread." For this kind of magic offers those ex- 
cellent fruits which God had ordained should be procured by 
labour at the price of a few easy and slight observances. 

There are two other doctrines which principally regard 
the faculties of the inferior or sensitive soul, as chiefly com- 
municating with the organs of the body, — the one is of 
voluntary motion, the other of sense and sensibility. The 
former has been but superficially inquired into, and one 
entire part of it is almost wholly neglected. The office and 
proper structure of the nerves, muscles, &c, requisite to 
muscular motion, what parts of the body rest while others 
move, and how the imagination acts as director of this 
motion, so far that when it drops the image whereto the 
motion tended, the motion itself presently ceases, — as in 
walking, if another serious thought come across our mind, 
we presently stand still; with many other such subtilties, 
have long ago been observed and scrutinized. But how the 
compressions, dilatations, and agitations of the spirit, which, 
doubtless, is the spring of motion, should guide and rule the 
corporeal and gross mass of the parts, has not yet been dili- 
gently searched into and treated. And no wonder, since the 
sensitive soul itself has been hitherto taken for a principle 
of motion and a function, rather than a substance.^ But as 

s The original is, pro entelechia et functione quadam, alluding to the 
technical term entelechy, which Aristotle introduced into his Physics 
(iii. 1) to denote the act through which any substance exercises its 
power. The rational soul was never taken in the sense of a simple act, 
or entelechy, as Bacon would insinuate, but was affirmed even by Aris- 
totle, who introduced the phrase, to be a certain power apart and dis- 
tinguished from the rest of the human system, as the eternal is distin- 
guishable from the incorruptible. His words are : irepi 8e rov vov kql 
t))q OeiOfjrjriKYjQ dvvafieujg ovdkirijj (pavepov. 'AW' Koike ipvxijg y'tvog 
srepov elvaiy Kai tovto fiovov kvckxerai x<*>piZtc>9oLi Ka.Qa.7rep didiov tov 
(pQapTov (Arist. De An. ii. 2) ; and as this power is not a simple act, but 
the effect of a vital substance, possessing the principle of activity vir- 
tually in itself, he implies its capability to communicate motion to sur- 
rounding bodies even in a state of immobility • icrug yao ov \iovov 
\ptvdog ten to tt\v ovalav avrrjg rot avrrjv elvat olav (paalv olXiyovreg 
elvai ttjv ijjvxyv to kivovv avTO r/ ^vvdj.ifvov kivuv aSX tv ti tujv 
ddvvdTiiJv to virapxsiv au7?j Kivrjviv. (Arist. ibid. iii. 1.) With regard 
to the precise meaning of the word entelechy there have been many 
disputes among the learned. The origin of the term ought to be allowed 
2 N 



178 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK IV. 

it is now known to be material, it becomes necessary to 
inquire by what efforts so subtile and minute a breath can 
put such gross and solid bodies in motion. Therefore, as 
this part is deficient, let due inquiry be made concerning it. 

Sense and sensibility have been much more fully and 
diligently inquired into, as well in general treatises upon the 
subject as in particular arts ; viz., perspective, music, &c. ; 
but how justly, is not to the present intention. And, there- 
fore, we cannot note them as deficient; yet there are two 
excellent parts wanting in this doctrine : one upon the 
difference of perception and sense, and the other upon the 
form of light. In treating of sense and sensibility, philo- 
sophers should have premised the difference between per- 
ception and sense, as the foundation of the whole : for we 
find there is a manifest power of perception in most natural 
bodies, and a kind of appetite to choose what is agreeable, 
and to avoid what is disagreeable to them. Nor is this meant 
of the more subtile perceptions only ; as when the loadstone 
attracts iron, or flame flies to petreol, or one drop of water 
runs into another ; or when the rays of light are reflected 
from a white object, or when animal bodies assimilate what 
is proper for them, and reject what is hurtful ; or when 
a sponge attracts water, and expels air, &c. ; for in all cases, 
no one body placed near to another can change that other, or 
be changed by it, unless a reciprocal perception precede the 
operation. A body always perceives the passages by which 
it insinuates^ feels the impulse of another body, where it 
yields thereto ; perceives the removal of any body that with- 

to indicate its signification ; but Aristotle used it in distinct senses, 
as signifying not only a simple act or function of an unsubstantial 
quality, but also as the act of a substantial power; and his followers have 
never hit upon a generic term capable of uniting the two notions. Many 
have abandoned it as untranslatable. Budseus uses the word efficacia ; 
Cicero paraphrases it as a certain continuous and eternal motion (Tusc. 
i. 10), which only implies the motion of unsubstantial qualities, to which 
Bacon confined it. This signification, however, was but the exceptional 
use of the term, and does not coincide with the general applications of 
it in the Greek schools. Hermonlaus Barbarus is said to have been so 
much oppressed with this difficulty of translation, that he consulted the 
evil spirit by night, entreating to be supplied with a more common and 
familiar substitute for this word ; the mocking fiend, however, suggested 
only a word equally obscure, and the translator discontented with this, 
invented for himself the word perfectibilia. Ed. 



CHAP. III.] PERCEPTION DISTINCT FEOM SENSE. 179 

held it, and thereupon recovers itself; perceives the sepa- 
ration of its continuity, and for a time resists it ; in fine, 
perception is diffused through all nature. But air has such 
an acute perception of heat and cold, as far exceeds the 
human touch, which yet passes for the measure of heat and 
cold. This doctrine, therefore, has two defects : one, in that 
men have generally passed it over untouched, though a noble 
subject ; the other, that they who did attend to it have gone 
too far, attributed sense to all bodies, and made it almost a 
sin to pluck a twig from a tree, lest the tree should groan, 
like Polydorus in Virgil 1 * But they ought carefully to have 
searched after the difference betwixt perception and sense ; 
not only in comparing sensible with insensible things, in the 
entire bodies thereof, as those of plants and animals, but 
also to have observed in the sensible body itself, what should 
be the cause that so many actions are performed without 
any sense at all. Why the aliments are digested and dis- 
charged, the humours and juices carried up and down in the 
body ; why the heart and pulse beat ; why the viscera act as 
so many workshops, and each performs its respective office ; 
yet all this, and much more, be done without sense. But 
men have not yet sufficiently found of what nature the 
action of sense is, and what kind of body, what continuance, 
what repetitions of the impression are required to cause pain 
or pleasure. Lastly, they seem totally ignorant of the dii- 
ference between simple perception and sense, and how far 
perception may be caused without sense. Nor is this a con- 
troversy about words, but a matter of great importance. 
Wherefore let this doctrine be better examined, as a thing 
of capital, and very extensive use : for the ignorance of some 
ancient philosophers in this point, so far obscured the light 
of reason, that they thought there was a soul indifferently 
infused into all bodies ; nor did they conceive how motion 
of election could be caused without sense, or sense exist 
without a soul. 

That the form of light should not have been duly inquired 
into, appears a strange oversight, especially as men have be- 
stowed so much pains upon perspective : for neither has this 
art, nor others, afforded any valuable discovery in the subject 

h Yirg. 2Eneid, iii. 



180 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK IV. 

of light. Its radiations, indeed, are treated, but not its 
origin ; and the ranking of perspective with mathematics 
has produced this defect, with others of the like nature, 
because philosophy is thus deserted too soon. Again, the 
doctrine of light, and the causes thereof, have been almost 
r^perstitiously treated in physics, as a subject of a middle 
2:;.oure, betwixt natural and divine; whence certain Platonists 
would have light prior to matter itself: for they vainly 
imagined, that space was first filled with light, and after- 
wards with body ; but the Scriptures plainly say, that the 
mass of heaven and earth was dark before the creation of 
light. And as for what is physically delivered upon this 
subject, and according to sense, it presently descends to 
radiations, so that very little philosophical inquiry is extant 
about it. And men ought here to lower their contempla- 
tions a little, and inquire into the properties common to all 
lucid bodies, as this relates to the form of light ; how im- 
mensely soever the bodies concerned may differ in dignity, 
as the sun does from rotten wood, or putrefied fish. We 
should likewise inquire the cause why some things take fire, 
and when heated throw out light, and others not. Iron, 
metal, stones, glass, wood, oil, tallow, by fire yield either a 
fiame, or grow red-hot. But water and air, exposed to the 
most iu tense heat they are capable of, afford no light, nor so 
much as shine. That it is not the property of fire alone to 
give light ; and that water and air are not utter enemies 
thereto, appears from the dashing of salt-water in a dark 
night, and a hot season, when the small drops of the water, 
struck off by the motion of the oars in rowing, seem spark- 
ling and luminous. We have the same appearance in the 
agitated froth of the sea, called sea-lungs. And, indeed, it 
should be inquired what affinity flame and ignited bodies 
have with glow-worms, the Luciola, the Indian fly, which , 
casts a light over a whole room ; the eyes of certain creatures 
in the dark ; loaf-sugar in scraping or breaking ; the sweat 
of a horse hard ridden, &c. Men have understood so little 
of this matter, that most imagine the sparks, struck betwixt 
a flint and steel, to be air in attrition. But since the air 
ignites not with heat, yet apparently conceives light, whence 
owls, cats, and many other creatures see in the night (for 
there is no vision without light), there must be a native light 



BOOK V.] OBJECT OF LOGIC AND ETHICS. 181 

in air ; which, though weak and feeble, is proportioned to 
the visual organs of such creatures, so as to suffice them for 
sight. The error, as in most other cases, lies here, that men 
have not deduced the common forms of things from par- 
ticular instances, which is what we make the proper business 
of metaphysics. Therefore let inquiry be made into the 
form and origins of light ; and, in the mean time, we set it 
down as deficient. And so much for the doctrine of the 
substance of the soul, both rational and sensitive, with its 
faculties, and the appendages of this doctrine. 



ITFTH BOOK. 



CHAPTER I. 

Division of the "Use and Objects of the Faculties of the Soul into Logic 
and Ethics. Division of Logic into the Arts of Invention, Judg- 
ment, Memory, and Tradition. 

The doctrine of the human understanding, and of the 
human will, excellent king, are like twins ; for the purity of 
illumination, and the freedom of will, began and fell together : 
nor is there in the universe so intimate a sympathy, as that 
betwixt truth and goodness. The more shame for men of 
learning, if in knowledge they are like the winged angels, 
but in affections like the crawling serpents, having their 
minds indeed like a mirror ; but a mirror foully spotted. 

The doctrine of the use and objects of the mental facul- 
ties has two parts, well known and generally received ; viz., 
logic and ethics. Logic treats of the understanding and 
reason, and ethics of the will, appetite, and affections ; the 
one producing resolutions, the other actions. The imagina- 
tion, indeed, on both sides, performs the office of agent, or 
ambassador, and assists alike in the judicial and ministerial 
capacity. Sense commits all sorts of notions to the imagi- 
nation, and the reason afterwards judges of them. In like 
manner reason transmits select and approved notions to the 



182 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK V. 

imagination before the decree is executed : for imagination 
always precedes and excites voluntary motion, and is there- 
fore a common instrument both to the reason and the will, 
only it has two faces : that turned towards reason bearing 
the e&igj of truth ; but that towards action the enigy of 
goodness : yet they are faces : — 

" quales decet esse sororum." a 

But the imagination is more than a mere messenger ; as 
being invested with, or, at least, usurping no small authority, 
besides delivering the message. Thus, Aristotle well ob- 
serves, that the mind has the same command over the body, 
as the master over the slave ; but reason over the imagi- 
nation, the same that a magistrate has over a free citizen, who 
may come to rule in his turn. b For in matters of faith and 
religion, the imagination mounts above reason. Not that 
divine illumination is seated in the imagination, but, as in 
divine virtues, grace makes use of the motions of the will ; 
so in illumination it makes use of the motions of the imagi- 
nation ; whence religion solicits access to the mind, by simili- 
tudes, types, parables, dreams, and visions. Again, the 
imagination has a considerable sway in persuasion, insinuated 
by the power of eloquence : for when the mind is soothed, 
enraged, or any way drawn aside by the artifice of speech, 
all this is done oy raising the imagination ; which, now 
growing unruly, not only insults over, but, in a manner, offers 
violence to reason, partly by blinding, partly by incensing it. 
Yet there appears no cause why we should quit our former 
division : for in general, the imagination does not make 
the sciences; since even poetry, which has been always attri- 
buted to the imagination, should be esteemed rather a play 
of wit than a science. As for the power ol the imagination 
in natural things, we have already ranged it under the doc- 
trine of the soul ; and for its affinity with rhetoric, we refer 
it to the art of rhetoric. 

This part of human philosophy which regards logic, is 
disagreeable to the taste of many, as appearing to them no 
other than a net, and a snare of thorny subtilty. For as 
knowledge is justly called the food of the mind, so in the 
desire and choice of this food, most men have the appetite 

a Ovid, Metam. ii. 14. b Aristotle's Politics, i. 5, 6. 



I 



CHAP. II.] DOCTRINE OF DISCOVERY. 183 

of the Israelites in the wilderness, who, weary of manna, as 
a thin though celestial diet, would have gladly returned to 
the fleshpots : thus generally those sciences relish best that 
are subjective, and nearer related to flesh and blood \ as civil 
history, morality, politics, whereon men's affections, praises, 
and fortunes turn, and are employed, whilst the other dry 
light offends, andi dries up the soft and humid capacities of 
most men. But if we would rate things according to their 
real worth, the rational sciences are the keys to all the rest ; 
for as the hand is the instrument of instruments, and the 
mind the form of forms, so the rational sciences are to be 
esteemed the art of arts. Nor do they direct only, but also 
strengthen and confirm ; as the use and habit of shooting 
not only enables one to shoot nearer the mark, but likewise 
to draw a stronger bow. 

The logical arts are four, being divided according to the 
ends they lead to : for in rational knowledge man endea- 
vours, 1. either to find what he seeks ; 2. to judge of what 
he finds ; 3. to retain what he has approved ; or 4. to de- 
liver what he has retained : whence there are as many 
rational arts; viz., 1. the art of inquiry or invention ; 2. the 
art of examination or judging ; 3. the art of custody or 
memory ; and 4. the art of elocution or delivery. 



CHAPTER II. 

Division of Invention into the Invention oi. Arts and Arguments. The 
former, though the more important of them, is wanting. Division of 
the Invention of Arts into Literate (Instructed) Experience and a 
jSTew Method (Novum Organum). An Illustration of Literate Expe- 
rience. 

Invention is of two very different kinds : the one of arts 
and sciences, the other of arguments and discourse. The 
former I set down as absolutely deficient. And this defi- 
ciency appears like that, when, in taking the inventory of an 
estate, there is set down, in cash, nothing : for as ready 
money will purchase all other commodities, so this art, if 
extant, would procure all other arts. And as the immense 
regions of the West Indies had never been discovered, if the 
use of the compass had not first been known, it is no wonder 



184 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK V. 

that the discovery and advancement of arts hath made no 
greater progress, when the art of inventing and discovering 
the sciences remains hitherto unknown. That this part of 
knowledge is wanting, seems clear : for logic professes not, 
nor pretends to invent, either mechanical or liberal arts, nor 
to deduce the operations of the one, or the axioms of the 
other; but only leaves us this instruction in passage, to 
believe every artist in his own art. a Celsus, a wise man, as 
well as a physician, speaking of the empirical and dogmatical 
sects of physicians, gravely and ingenuously acknowledges, 
that medicines and cures were first discovered, and the 
reasons and causes of them discoursed afterwards, b not that 
causes, first derived from the nature of things, gave light to 
the invention of cures and remedies. And Plato, more than 
once, observes, that particulars are infinite, that the highest 
generalities give no certain directions ; and, therefore, that 
the marrow of all sciences, whereby the artist is distin- 
guished from the unskilful workman, consists in middle pro- 
positions, which experience has delivered and taught in each 
particular science. Hence those who write upon the first 
inventors of things, and the origin of the sciences, rather 
celebrate chance than art, and bring in beasts, birds, fishes, 
and serpents, rather than men, as the first teachers of arts. 

" Dictamnum genitrix Cretsea carpit ab Ida, 
Puberibus caulem foliis, et ilore comantem 
Purpureo : non ilia feris incognita capris 
Gramina, cum tergo volucres hassere sagittse." d 

No wonder, therefore, as the manner of antiquity was to 
consecrate the inventors of useful things, that the Egyp- 
tians, an ancient nation, to which many arts owe their rise, 
had their temples filled with the images of brutes, and but 
a few human idols amongst them. 

" Omnigenumque Deiim monstra et latrator Anubis 
Contra Neptunum et Venerem, contraque Minervam." e 

And if we should, according to the traditions of the Greeks, 
ascribe the first invention of arts to men, yet we cannot say 
that Prometheus studied the invention of fire ; or that when 

a See Whately's Intro. § 5, b. iii. (on Fallacies) § 2, and b. iv. : also 
Arist. Eth. Mag. i. 1-17. b Be Medica, i. 3. 

c The Timaeus. (l ^Eneid, xii. 412. e ^Eneid, viii. 698. 



CHAP. II.] DISCOVERIES HITHERTO ACCIDENTAL. 185 

he first struck the flint he expected sparks, but that he fell 
upon it by accident, and, as the poets say, stole it from 
Jupiter. So that as to the invention of arts, we are rather 
beholden to the wild goat for chirurgery, to the nightingale 
for music, to the stork for glysters, to the accidental flying 
off of a pot's cover for artillery, and, in a word, to chance, or 
anything else, rather than to logic. JSTor does the manner 
of invention, described by Virgil, differ much from the 
former ; viz., that practice and intent thought by degrees 
struck out various arts. 

" Ut varias usus meditando extunderet artes 
Paulatim." f 

For this is no other than what brutes are capable of, and 
frequently practise ; viz., an intent solicitude about some one 
thing, and a perpetual exercise thereof, which the necessity 
of their preservation imposes upon them ; for Cicero truly 
observed, that practice applied wholly to one thing, often 
conquers both nature and art : — " Usus uni rei deditus, et 
naturam et art em soepe vincit."s And therefore, if it may 
be said with regard to men, that continued labour and 
cogent necessity master everything, 

" Labor omnia vincit 

Improbus, et duris urgens in rebus egestas ;" h — 

so it may be asked with regard to brutes, who taught them 
instinct, 

" Quis expedivit Psittaco suum Xaipa ?"* 

"Who taught the raven, in a drought, to drop pebbles into a 
hollow tree, where she chanced to spy water, that the water 
might rise for her to drink ? "Who taught the bee to sail 
through the vast ocean of air, to distant fields, and find the 
way back to her hive 1 k Who taught the ant to gnaw every 
grain of corn that she hoards, to prevent its sprouting ] And 
it we observe in Virgil the word extundere, which implies 
difficulty, and the word paulatim, which imports slowness, 
this brings us back to the case of the Egyptian gods ; since 
men have hitherto made little use of their rational faculties, 
and none at all of art, in the investigation of things. 

f Georg. i. 133. s Oratio pro L. Cor. Balbo, xx. 

h Virg. Georg. i. 145. ! Perseus, Prol. S. 

k Pliny's Natural History. 



186 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK V. 

And this assertion, if carefully attended to, is proved from 
the form of logical induction, for finding and examining the 
principles of the sciences ; which form being absolutely 
defective and insufficient, is so far from perfecting nature, 
that it perverts and distorts her. For whoever attentively 
observes how the ethereal dew of the sciences, like that of 
which the poet speaks, 

" Aerii rnellis coelestia dona," 1 

is gathered (the sciences being extracted from particular 
examples, whether natural or artificial, as from so many 
flowers), will find that the mind of its own natural motion 
makes a better induction than that described by logicians. 
From a bare enumeration of particulars in the logical manner, 
where there is no contradictory instance, follows a false 
conclusion ; nor does such an induction infer anything more 
than probable conjecture. For who will undertake, when 
the particulars of a man's own knowledge or memory appear 
only on one side, that something directly opposite shall not 
lie concealed on the other ? as if Samuel should have taken 
up with the sons of Jesse brought before him, and not have 
sought David, who was in the field. And to say the truth, 
as this form of induction is so gross and stupid, it might 
seem incredible that such acute and subtile geniuses as have 
been exercised this way, could ever have obtruded it upon 
the world, but that they hasted to theories and opinions, and, 
as it were, disdained to dwell Upon particulars ; for they 
have used examples and particular instances but as whifners 
to keep the crowd off and make room for their own opinions, 
without consulting them from the beginning, so as to make 
a just and mature judgment of the truth of things. And 
this procedure has, indeed, struck me with an awful and 
religious wonder, to see men tread the same paths of error, 
both in divine and human inquiries. For as in receiving 
divine truths men are averse to become as little children, so 
in the apprehending of human truths,, for men to begin to 
read, and, like children, come back again to the first 
elements of induction, is reputed a low and contemptible 
thing. 

But, allowing the principles of the sciences might be justly 

1 Virgil, Georg. iv. 1. 



CHAP. II.] EFFECTS OF THE SYLLOGISM. 187 

formed by tlie common induction, or by sense and experience, 
yet it is certain that the lower axioms cannot, in natural 
things, be with certainty deduced by syllogism from them. 
For syllogism reduces propositions to jorinciples by inter- 
mediate propositions. And this form, whether of invention 
or proof, has place in the popular sciences, as ethics, politics, 
law, &c, and even in divinity, since God has been pleased to 
accommodate himself to the human capacity ; but in physics, 
where nature is to be caught by works, and not the adversary 
by, argument, truth in this way slips through our fingers, 
because the subtilty of the operations of nature far exceeds 
the subtilty of words. So that syllogism thus failing, there 
is everywhere a necessity for employing a genuine and cor- 
rect induction, as well in the more general principles, as 
the inferior propositions. For syllogisms consist of propo- 
sitions, propositions of words, but words are the signs of 
notions ; wherefore if these notions, which are the souls of 
words, be unjustly and unsteadily abstracted from things, the 
whole structure must fall. ]STor can any laborious subsequent 
examination of the consequences of arguments, or the truth 
of propositions, ever repair the ruin ; for the error lies in the 
first digestion, which cannot be rectified by the secondary 
functions of nature. 

It was not, therefore, without cause, that many of the 
ancient philosophers, and some of them eminent in their 
way, became academics and sceptics, who denied all certainty 
of human knowledge, and held that the understanding went 
no further than appearance and probability. It is true, 
some are of opinion that Socrates, when he declared himself 
certain of nothing, did it only in the way of irony, and put 
on the dissimulation of knowledge, that by renouncing what 
he certainly knew, he might be thought to know what he 
was ignorant of. Nor in the latter academy, which Cicero 
followed, was this opinion held with much reality ; but 
those who excelled in eloquence, commonly chose this sect as 
the fittest for their purpose, viz., acquiring the reputation of 
disputing copiously on both sides of the question, thus 
leaving the high road of truth for private walks of pleasure. 
Yet it is certain there were some few, both in the old and 
new academies, but more' among the Sceptics, who held this 
principle of doubting in simplicity and sincerity of heart. 



188 ADVANCEMENT OF LEAKNING. [BOOK V. 

But their chief error lay in accusing the perceptions of the 
senses, and thus plucked up the sciences by their roots. For 
though the senses often deceive or fail us, yet, when in- 
dustriously assisted, they may suffice for the sciences, and this 
not so much by the help of instruments, which also have 
their use, as of such experiments, as may furnish more subtile 
objects than are perceivable by sense. But they should 
rather have charged the defects of this kind upon the errors 
and obstinacy of the mind, which refuses to obey the nature 
of things ; and again, upon corrupt demonstrations, and 
wrong ways of arguing and concluding, erroneously inferred 
from the perceptions of sense. And this we say, not to 
detract from the human mind, or as if the work were to be 
deserted, but that proper assistances may be procured and 
administered to the understanding, whereby to conquer the 
difficulties of things and the obscurities of nature. What we 
endeavour is, that the mind, by the help of art, may be- 
come equal to things, and to find a certain art of indication 
or direction, to disclose and bring other arts to light, together 
with their axioms and effects. And this art we, upon just 
ground, report as deficient. 

This art of indication has two parts ; for indication pro- 
ceeds, 1. from experiment to experiment ; or 2. from ex- 
periments to axioms, which may again point out new 
experiments. The former we call learned experience, and 
the latter the interpretation of nature, Novum Organum, or 
new machine for the mind. The first, indeed, as was formerly 
intimated, is not properly an art, or any part of philosophy, 
but a kind of sagacity ; whence we sometimes call it the 
chase of Pan, borrowing the name from the fable of that 
god. And as there are three ways of walking, viz., either by 
feeling out one's way in the dark ; or 2. when being dim- 
sighted, another leads one by the hand ; and 3. by directing 
one's steps by a light : so when a man tries all kinds of ex- 
periments without method or order, this is mere groping in 
the dark ; but when he proceeds with some direction and 
order in his experiments, it is as if he were led by the hand ; 
and this we understand by learned experience : but for the 
light itself, which is the third way, it must be derived from 
the Novum Organum. 

The design of learned experience, or the chase of Pan, is 



CHAP. II.] DESIGN OF LITERATE EXPERIMENT. 189 

to show the various ways of making experiments; and as 
we note it for deficient, and the thing itself is none of the 
clearest, we will here give some short sketch of the work. 
The manner of experimenting chiefly consists in the varia- 
tion, production, translation, inversion, compulsion, applica- 
tion, conjunction, or any other manner of diversifying, or 
making chance experiments. And all this lies without the 
limits of any axiom of invention ; but the interpretation of 
nature takes in all the transitions of experiments into 
axioms, and of axioms into experiments. 

Experiments are varied first in the subject, as when a 
known experiment, having rested in one certain substance, 
is tried in another of the like kind ; thus the making of 
paper is hitherto confined to linen, and not applied to silk, 
unless among the Chinese, d nor to hair-stuffs and camblets, 
nor to cotton and skins; though these three seem to be more 
unfit for the purpose, and so should be tried in mixture 
rather than separate. Again, engrafting is practised in fruit- 
trees, but rarely in wild ones; yet an elm grafted upon an 
elm is said to produce great foliage for shade. Incision like- 
wise in flowers is very rare, though now the experiment 
begins to be made upon musk-roses, which are successfully 
inoculated upon common ones. We also place the variations 
on the side of the thing among the variations in the matter. 
Thus we see a scion grafted upon the trunk of a tree thrives 
better than if set in earth; and why should not onion-seed 
set in a green onion grow better than when sown * in the 
ground by itself, a root being here substituted for the trunk, 
so as to make a kind of incision in the root ? 

An experiment may be varied in the efficient. Thus, as 
the sun's rays are so contracted by a burning-glass, and 
heightened to such a degree as to fire any combustible mat- 
ter, may not the rays of the moon, by the same means, be 
actuated to some small degree of warmth, so as to show 
whether all the heavenly bodies are potentially hot? and as 
luminous heats are thus increased by glasses, may not opaque 
heats, as of stones and metals, before ignition, be increased 
likewise, or is there not some proportion of light here also % 



m The Chinese also manufacture their paper out of the interior bark 
oi cane. Ed. 



190 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK V. 

Amber and jet, chafed, attract straws, whence query, if they 
will not do the* same when warmed at the fire ? 

An experiment may be varied in quantity, wherein very 
great care is required, as being subject to various errors. 
For men imagine, that upon increasing the quantity the 
virtue should increase proportionably ; and this they com- 
monly postulate as a mathematical certainty, and yet it is 
utterly false. Suppose a leaden ball of a pound weight, let 
fall from a steeple, reaches the earth in ten seconds, will a 
ball of two pounds, where the power of natural motion, as 
they call it, should be double, reach it in five? No, they 
will fall almost in equal times, and not be accelerated ac- 
cording to quantity. 11 Suppose a drachm of sulphur would 
liquefy half a pound of steel, will, therefore, an ounce of sul- 
phur liquefy four pounds of steel? It does not follow; for 
the stubbornness of the matter in the patient is more in- 
creased by quantity than the activity of the agent. Besides, 
too much as well as too little may frustrate the effect, — thus, 
in smelting and refining of metals it is a common error to 
increase the heat of the furnace or the quantity of the flux ; 
but if these exceed a due proportion, they prejudice the 
operation, because by their force and corrosiveness they turn 
much of the pure metal into fumes, and carry it off, whence 
there ensues not only a loss in the metal, but the remaining 
mass becomes more sluggish and intractable. Men should 
therefore remember how ^Esop's housewife was deceived, who 
expected that by doubling her feed her hen should lay two 
eggs a day; but the hen grew fat, and laid none. It is abso- 
lutely unsafe to rely upon any natural experiment before 
proof be made of it, both in a less and a larger quantity. 

n Because its surface in relation to its solidity is less than the first 
fall, and consequently encounters less resistance jfl-om the air, with re- 
spect to the entire quantity of its motion. Ed. 

° This only happens when the increased content is attended with aug- 
mentation of surface. It may be accepted as a principle, that bodies are 
exposed to the action of external agents in proportion as their surface is 
extended, an increased size presenting a greater quantity of pores, 
through which the agent may insinuate itself. As surfaces are only 
as the squares of their diameters, and the contents increase in the ratio 
of the cubes of their diameters, it follows that, in the same subject 
matter, those bodies are more extended in relation to their soli- 
dity, which have less bulk, and consequently more liable to the action 
of external bodies, as Bacon remarks. Ed. 



CHAP. IX.] THE MODES OF EXPERIMENT. 191 

An experiment is produced two ways ; viz., by repetition 
and extension, the experiment being either repeated or 
urged to a more subtile thing. It may serve for an example 
of repetition, that spirit of wine is made of wine by one dis- 
tillation, and thus becomes much stronger and more acrid 
than the wine itself, — will likewise spirit of wiue propor- 
tionally exceed itself in strength by another distillation? 
But the repetition also of experiments may deceive; thus 
here the second exaltation does not equal the excess of the 
first; and frequently, by repeating an experiment after a 
certain pitch is obtained, nature is so far from going farther, 
that she rather foils back. Judgment, therefore, must be 
used in this affair. So quicksilver put into melted lead, 
when it begins to grow cold, will be arrested, and remain no 
longer fluid; but will the same quicksilver, often served so, 
become fixed and malleable ? 

For an example of extension, water made pendulous 
above, by means of a long glass stem, and dipped into a 
mixture of wine and water, will separate the water from 
the wine, the wine gently rising to the top, and the water 
descending and settling at the bottom. Now, as wine and 
water, being two different bodies, are separable by this con- 
trivance, may likewise the more subtile parts of wine, which 
is an entire body, be separated from the more gross by this 
kind of distillation, performed as it were by gravity, so as to 
have floating a-top a liquor like spirit of wine, or perhaps 
more subtile 1 Again, the loadstone draws iron in substance, 
but will loadstone plunged into a solution of iron attract the 
iron and cover itself with it ? So the magnetic needle applies 
to the poles of the world ; but does it do this after the same 
course and order that the celestial bodies move 1 Suppose 
the needle held at the south point, and then let go, would 
it now turn to the north by the west or east^P Thus gold 
imbibes quicksilver contiguous to it ; but does the gold do this 
without increasing its own bulk, so as to become a mass spe- 
cifically heavier than gold 1 Thus men help their memories 
by setting up pictures of persons in certain places; but would 

p This question is impossible to decide, as we are never certain at 
the moment of the experiment that the needle has not been deflected 
from the south point, and the slightest imperceptible degree, too fine 
for human instrument to discover, would render the trial nugatory. Ed*. 



192 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK V. 

they obtain the same end if, neglecting their faces, they 
only imagined the actions or habits of the persons 1 

An experiment may be transferred three ways ; viz., By 
nature or chance into an art; 2. from one art or practice 
to another ; and, 3. from one part of an art to another. 
There are innumerable examples of the transferring of 
experiments from nature or chance to arts, as nearly all 
the mechanical arts owe their origins to slender beginnings 
afforded by nature or accident. It is authorized by a proverb, 
that grapes among grapes ripen sooner. And our cyder- 
makers observe the rule ; for they do not stamp and press 
their apples without laying them on heaps for a time, to 
ripen by mutual contact, whereby the liquor is prevented 
from being too tart. So the making of artificial rainbows 
by the thick sprinkling of little drops of water, is an easy 
translation from natural rainbows made in a rainy cloud. 
So the art of distillation might be taken either from the 
falling of rain arid dew, or that homely experiment of boil- 
ing water, where drops adhere to the cover of the vessel. 
Mankind might have been afraid to imitate thunder and 
lightning by the invention of great guns, had not the che- 
mical monk received the first hint of it by the impetuous 
discharge and loud report of the cover of his vessel. But if 
mankind were desirous to search after useful things, they 
ought attentively, minutely, and on set purpose, to view the 
workmanship and particular operations of nature, and be 
continually examining and casting about which of them may 
be transferred to arts ; for nature is the mirror of art. 

Nor are there fewer experiments transferable from one 
art or practice to another, though this be rarely used. For 
nature lies everywhere obvious to us all, though particular 
arts are only known to particular artists. Spectacles were 
invented for weak sights, — might not, therefore, an instru- 
ment be discovered that applied to the ears should help the 
hearing? Embalming preserves dead bodies, — could not, 
therefore, something ot like kind be transferred to medicine, 
for the preservation of live ones 1 So the practice of sealing 
in wax, cements, and lead, is ancient, and paved the way to 
the printing on paper, or the art of the press. So in cookery, 
salt preserves meats better in winter than in summer, — 
might not this be usefully transferred to baths, and the 



CHAP. II.] LITEEATE EXPERIENCE. 193 

occasional regulation of their temperature? So by late 
experience salt is found of great efficacy in condensing, by 
the way of artificial freezing, — might not this be transferred 
to the condensing of metals, since it is found that the aquse- 
fortes, composed of salts, dissolve particles of gold out of some 
lighter metals ? So painting refreshes the memory by the 
image of a thing; and is not this transferred in what they 
call the art of memory? And let it be observed, in general, 
that nothing is of greater efficacy in procuring a stock of 
new and useful inventions, than to have the experiments of 
numerous mechanic arts known to a single person, or to a 
few, who might mutually improve each other by conversa- 
tion ; so that by this translation of experiments arts might 
mutually warm and light up each other, as it were, by an 
intermixture of rays. For although the rational way, by 
means of a new machine for the mind, promises much greater 
things ; yet this sagacity, or learned experience, will in the 
mean time scatter among mankind many matters, which, as 
so many missive donatives among the ancients, are near at 
hand. 

The transferring of experiments from one part of an art 
to another differs little from the transferring one art to ano- 
ther. But because some arts are so extensive as to allow of 
the translation of experiments within themselves, it is proper 
to mention this kind also, especially as it is of very great 
moment in some particular arts. Thus it greatly contributes 
to enlarge the art of medicine to have the experiments of 
that part which treats of the cures of diseases, transferred to 
those parts which relate to the preservation of health and 
the prolongation of life. For if any famous opiate should, 
in a pestilential distemper, suppress the violent inflammation 
of the spirits, it might thence seem probable that something 
of the same kind, rendered familiar by a due dose, might in 
good measure check that wasting inflammation which steals 
on with age. 

An experiment is inverted when the contrary of what the 
experiment shows is proved ; for example, heat is increased 
by burning-glasses ; but may cold be so too 1 So heat in dif- 
fusing itself rather mounts upwards, but cold in diffusing 
itself rather moves downwards. Thus, if an iron rod be 
heated at one end, then erected upon its heated end, and the 
2 o 



194 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK V, 

hand bo applied to the upper part of the rod, the hand will 
presently be burnt ; but if the heated end be placed upward 
and the hand applied below, it will be burnt much slower. 
But if the whole rod were heated, and one end of it wet with 
snow or a sponge dipped in cold water, would the cold be 
sooner propagated downwards than upwards if the sponge 
were applied below? Again, the rays of the sun are reflected 
from a white body, but absorbed by a black one. Are 
shadows also scattered by black and collected by white 
bodies ? We see in a dark place, where light comes in only 
at a small hole, the images of external objects are received 
upon white paper, but not upon black. 

An experiment is compelled where it is urged or produced 
to the annihilation or destruction of the power, the prey 
being only caught in the other chases, but killed in this. 
Thus the loadstone attracts iron, — urge, therefore, the iron, 
or urge the loadstone, till they attract no longer; for ex- 
ample, if the loadstone were burnt, or steeped in aquafortis, 
would it entirely, or only in part, lose its virtue ? So if iron 
were reduced to a crocus, or made into prepared steel, as 
they call it, or dissolved in aquafortis, would the loadstone 
still attract it ? The magnet draws iron through all known 
mediums, — gold, silver, glass, &c. Urge the medium, there- 
fore, and, if possible, find out one that intercepts the virtue. 
Thus make trial of quicksilver, oil, gums, ignited gold, and 
such things as have not yet been tried. Again, microscopes 
have been lately introduced which strangely magnify minute 
objects; urge the use of them, either by applying them to 
objects so small that their power is lost, or so large till it is 
confounded. Thus, for example, can microscopes clearly dis- 
cover those things in urine which are not otherwise percep- 
tible? Can they discover any specks or clouds in gems that 
are perfectly clear and bright to appearance? Can they 
magnify the motes of the sun, which Democritus mistook for 
atoms and the principles of things ? fl Will they show a 
mixed powder of vermilion and ceruse in distinct grains of 
red and white? Will they magnify larger objects, — as the 
face, the eye, &c, — as much as they do a gnat or a mite, or 
represent a piece of fine linen open as a net ? But we need 

i Epistles of Hippocrates, or Pliny's Nat. History. 



CHAP. II.] LITEItATE EXPERIENCE. 195 

not insist longer on compulsory experiments, as they do not 
justly come within the limits of literate experience, but are 
rather referred to axioms, causes, and the iSew Organum. 

The application of an experiment is no more than an in- 
genious translation of it to some other experiment of use ; 
for example, all bodies have their own dimensions and gra- 
vities. Gold has more gravity and less bulk than silver, and 
water than wine, — hence an useful experiment is derived for 
discovering what proportion of silver is mixed with gold, 
or of water with wine, from a knowledge of their measure 
and weight, which was the grand discovery of Archimedes. r 
Again, as flesh putrefies sooner in some cellars than in others, 
it were useful to transfer this experiment to the examination 
of airs, as to their being more or less wholesome to live in, 
by finding those wherein flesh remains longest unputrefied; 
and the same experiment is applicable to discover the more 
wholesome or pestilential seasons of the year. But examples 
of this kind are endless, and require that men should have 
their eyes continually turned one while to the nature of 
things and another while to human uses. 

The conjunction of an experiment is a connection and 
chain of applications, when those things which were not use- 
ful single, are made useful by connection; for example, to 
have roses or fruits come late, the way is to pluck off the 
early buds, or to lay bare the roots and expose them to the 
open air, towards the middle of spring ; but it is much better 
to do both together. So ice and nitre separate have a great 
power of cooling, but a much greater when mixed together. 
But there may be a fallacy in this obvious affair, as in all 
cases where axioms are wanting, if the conjunction be made 
in things that operate by different and, as it were, contrary 
ways. s 

'The means that Bacon proposes, and to which the chemists still 
adhere, is the reverse of that of Archimedes. The ancient compared, 
in his experiment, three bodies of the same weight, but of different 
volume, while the text advises three bodies of the same volume, but of 
different weight. This reversion, however,- does not affect the result. 
Ed. 

s Such are the compounds of very active substances, which chemists 
designate neuter : for example, the greater part of salts, as nitre, sea- 
salt, the salt of Glauber, and generally all those substances composed 
of an acid united to an alkaline or earthy base. Ed. 

02 



196 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK V. 

As for chance experiments, these are plainly an irrational 
and wild procedure, when the mind suggests the trial of a 
thing, not because any reason or experiment persuades it, 
but only because nothing of the kind has been tried before ; 
yet even here, perhaps, some considerable mystery lies con- 
cealed, provided no stone in nature were left unturned ; for 
the capital things of nature generally lie out of the beaten 
paths, so that even the absurdness of a thing sometimes 
proves useful. But if reason also be here joined, so as to 
show that the like experiment never was attempted, arid yet 
that there is great cause why it should be; then this becomes 
an excellent instrument, and really enters the bosom of 
nature. For example, in the operation of fire upon natural 
bodies it hath hitherto always happened that either some- 
thing ilies off, as flame and smoke in our common fires, or at 
least that the parts are locally separated to some distance, as 
in distillation, where the vapour rises and the faeces are left 
behind; but no man hath hitherto tried close distillation. 
Yet it seems probable, that if the force of heat may have its 
action confined in the cavities of a body, without any pos- 
sibility of loss or escape, this Proteus of matter will be 
manacled, as it were, and forced to undergo numerous trans- 
formations, provided only the heat be so moderated and 
changed as not to break the containing vessel. For this is 
& kind of natural matrix, where heat has its effect without 
separating or throwing off the parts of a body. In a true 
matrix, indeed, there is nourishment supplied ; but in point 
of transmutation the case is the same. And here let none 
■despair or be confounded, if the experiments they attempt 
should not answer their expectation ; for though success be 
indeed more pleasing, yet failure, frequently, is no ]ess in- 
forming ; and it must ever be remembered, that experiments 
of light are more to be desired than experiments of profit. 
And so much ior learned experience, as we call it, which 
thus appears to be rather a sagacity, or a scenting of nature, 
as in hunting, than a direct science.* 

* This section appears to have been little understood even by some 
eminent men, who censure the scheme of the author, and think that 
experiments must need be casual, and the human understanding unable 
to direct and conduct them to useful purposes unless by accident. The 
misfortune seems to lie here, that few converse so familiarly with nature, 



CHAP. III.] STORE OF COMMON-PLACES. 197 

As regards the Novum Organum, we shall state here 
nothing either summarily or in detail, it being our intention, 
with the Divine assistance, to devote an entire treatise to 
that subject, which is more important than all the rest. 



CHAPTER III. 

Division of the Invention of Arguments into Promptuary, or Places of 
Preparation, and Topical, or Places of Suggestion. The Division of 
Topics into General and Particular. An Example of Particular Topics 
afforded by an Inquiry into the Nature of the Qualities oi Light and 
Heavy. 

The invention of arguments is not properly an invention ; 
for to invent, is to discover things unknown before, and not 
to recollect or admit such as are known already. The office 
and use of this kind of invention seems to be no more than 
dexterously to draw out from the stock of knowledge laid up 
in the mind such things as make to the present purpose ; for 
one who knows little or nothing of a subject proposed, has 
no use of topics or places of invention, whilst he who is pro- 
vided of suitable matter, will find and produce arguments, 
without the help of art and such places of invention, though 
not so readily and commodiously ; whence this kind of in- 
vention is rather a bare calling to memory, or a suggestion 
with application, than a real invention. But since the term 
is already received, it may still be called invention, as the 
hunting in a park may be called hunting no less than that in 
the open field. But not to insist upon the word, the scope 
and the end of the thing itself, is a quick and ready use of 
our thoughts, rather than any enlargement or increase of 
them. 

There are two methods of procuring a stock of matter for 
discourse ; viz., 1. either by marking out, and indicating the 
parts wherein a thing is to be searched after, which is what 
we call the topical way ; or 2. by laying up arguments for 
use, that were composed beforehand, relating to such things 

as to judge what may be done in this way ; or how the numerous dis- 
coveries of Lord Bacon, Mr. Boyle, Dr. Hook, Sir Isaac Newton, &c, 
were made. An attentive perusal of the Novum Organum, where this 
subject is largely prosecuted, will unravel the mystery. Shaw. 



198 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK V. 

as frequently happen and come in dispute ; and this we call 
the promptuary way : but the latter can scarce be called a 
part of science, as consisting rather in diligence than any 
artificial learning. Aristotle on this head ingeniously derides 
the sophists of his time, saying, they acted like a professed 
shoemaker, who did not teach the art of shoemaking, but set 
out a large stock of shoes, of different shapes and sizes. a 
But it might be replied, that the shoemaker who should have 
no shoes in his shop, and only make them as they were be- 
spoke, would find few customers. Our Saviour speaks far 
otherwise of divine knowledge, saying, " Therefore every scribe 
which is instructed into the kingdom of heaven, is like unto 
a man that is an householder, which brings forth out of his 
treasure things new and old." b 

"W e find also that the ancient rhetoricians gave it in pre- 
cept to the orators to be always provided of various common- 
places, ready furnished and illustrated with arguments on 
both sides ; as for the intention of the law against the words 
of the law ; for the truth of arguments against testimonies, 
and vice versa. c And Cicero himself, being taught by long 
experience, roundly asserts, that a diligent and experienced 
orator should have such, things as come into dispute, ready 
laboured and prepared, so as that in pleading there should be 
no necessity of introducing anything new or occasional, ex- 
cept* new names, and some particular circumstances. d But as 
the first opening of the cause has a great effect in preparing 
the minds of the audience, the exactness of Demosthenes 
judged it proper to compose beforehand, and have in 
readiness, several introductions to harangues and speeches ; e 
and these examples and authorities may justly overrule the 
opinion of Aristotle, who would have us change a whole 
wardrobe for a pair of shears. This promptuary method, 
therefore, should not be omitted; but as it relates as well to 
rhetoric as to logic, we shall here touch it but slightly ; 
designing to consider it more fully under rhetoric/ 

We divide topical inventions into general and particular. 
The general is so copiously and diligently treated in the 

a De Eeprehen. Soph. ii. 9. b St. Matt. xiii. 52. 

c De Oratore. fl Epistles to Atticus, vi. 16. 

c The prefaces alluded to are of doubtful authority. 
f See hereafter, sect. IS. 



CHAP. III.] TOPICS GENERAL AXD SPECIAL. 199 

coram on logics, tnat we need not dwell upon its explanation : 
we only observe by the way, that this topical method is not 
only used in argumentation and close conference, but also 
in contemplation, when we meditate or revolve anything 
alone. ]S r or is its office only confined to the suggesting or 
admonishing us of what should be affirmed or asserted, but 
also what we should examine or question ; a prudent ques- 
tioning being a kind of half-knowledge ; for, as Plato justly 
observes, a searcher must have some general notion of the 
thing he searches after, otherwise he could never know it 
when he had found it ;8 and therefore, the more comprehen- 
sive and sure our anticipation is, the more direct and short 
will be the investigation. And hence the same topics which 
conduce to the close examining into our own understandings, 
and collecting the notices there treasured up, are likewise 
assistant in drawing forth our knowledge. Thus, if a person, 
skilful in the point under question, were at hand, as we 
might prudently and advantageously consult him upon it; in 
like manner, we may usefully select and turn over authors 
and books, to instruct and inform ourselves about those 
things we are in quest of. 

But the particular topical invention is much more con- 
ducive to the same purposes, and to be esteemed a highly 
fertile thing. Some writers have lately mentioned it, but it 
is by no means treated according to its extent and merit. 
Isot to mention the error and haughtiness which have too 
long reigned in the schools, and their pursuing with infinite 
subtilty such things as are obvious, without once touching 
upon those that lie remote, we receive this topical invention 
as an extremely useful thing, that affords certain heads of 
inquiry and investigation appropriated to particular subjects 
and sciences. These places are certain mixtures of logic and 
the peculiar matter of each science. It is an idle thing, and 
shows a narrow mind, to think that the art of discovering the 
sciences may be invented and proposed in perfection from the 
beginning, so as to be afterwards only exercised and brought 
into use : for men should be made sensible that the solid 
and real arts of invention grow up and increase along with 
inventions themselves ; so that when any one first comes to 

s In Menone, ii. SO. 



200 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK V. 

the thorough examination of a science, he should have some 
useful rules of discovery; but after he hath made a con- 
siderable progress in the science itself, he may, and ought, to 
find out new rules of invention, the better to lead him still 
farther. The way here is like walking on a flat, where, after 
we have gone some length, we not only approach nearer the 
end of our journey, but also have a clearer view of what 
remains to be gone of it ; so in the sciences, every step of the 
way, as it leaves some things behind, also gives us a nearer 
prospect of those that remain : and as we report this parti- 
cular topical invention deficient, we think proper to give an 
example of it in the subject of gravity and levity. 

1. Let inquiries be made what kind of bodies are suscep- 
tible of the motion of gravity ; what of levity ; and if there 
be any of a middle or neutral nature. 

2. After the simple inquiry of gravity and levity, proceed 
to a comparative inquiry; viz., which heavy bodies weigh 
more, and which less, in the same dimensions ; and of like 
ones, which mount upwards the swifter, and which the 
slower. 

3. Inquire what effect the quantity of the body has in the 
motion of gravity. This at first sight may appear a needless 
inquiry, because motion may seem proportionable to quantity; 
but the case is otherwise. For although in scales quantity is 
equal to the gravity, yet where there is a small resistance, as 
in the falling of bodies through the air, quantity has but 
little force to quicken the descent ; but twenty pounds of 
lead, and a single pound, fall nearly in the same time. 

4. Inquire whether the quantity of a body may be so in- 
creased as that the motion of gravity shall be entirely lost, 
as in the globe of the earth, which hangs pendulous without 
falling. Quaere, therefore, whether other masses may be so 
large as to sustain themselves ? For that bodies should move 
to the centre of the earth is a fiction ; and every mass ot 
matter has an aversion to local motion, till this be overcome 
by some stronger impulse. 

5. Inquire into the effects and nature of resisting mediums, 
as to their influencing the motion of gravity ; for a falling 
body either penetrates and cuts through the body it meets 
in its way, or else is stopped by it. If it pass through, there 
is a penetration, either with a small resistance, as in air, or 



CHAP. III.] EXAMPLES OF SPECIAL TOPICS. 201 

with a greater, as in water. If it be stopped, it is stopped 
by an unequal resistance, where there is a preponderance as 
when wood is laid upon wax ; or by an equal resistance, as 
when water is laid upon water, or wood upon wood of the 
same kind ; which is what the schools pretend, when they 
idly imagine that bodies do not gravitate in their own places. 
And all these circumstances alter the motion of gravity ; for 
heavy bodies move after one way in the balance, and after 
another in falling : and, which may seem strange, after one 
way in a balance suspended in the air, and after another 
in a balance plunged in water \ after one way in falling 
through water, and after another when floating upon it. 

6. Inquire into the effects of the figure of the descending 
body, in directing the motion of gravity : suppose of a figure 
broad and thin, cubical, oblong, round, pyramidal, &c. ; and 
how bodies turn themselves whilst they remain in the same 
position as when first let go. 

7. Inquire into the effects of the continuation and pro- 
gression of the fall or descent itself, as to the acquiring a 
greater impulse or velocity, and hi what proportion and to 
what length this velocity is increased ; for the ancients, upon 
slender consideration, imagined that this motion, being natural, 
was always upon the increase. 

8. Inquire into the effects of distance, or the near approach 
of a body descending to the earth, so as to fall swifter, 
slower, or not at all, supposing it were to be out of the 
earth's sphere of activity, according to Gilbert's opinion; 
as also the effects of plunging the falling body deeper 
into the earth, or placing it nearer the surface ; for this 
also varies the motion, as is manifest to those who work in 
mines. 

9. Inquire into the effects of the difference of bodies, 
through which the motion of gravity is diffused and com- 
municated ; and whether it is equally communicated through 
soft and porous bodies, as through hard and solid ones. Thus 
if the beam of a scale were one half of wood, and the other 
half of silver, yet of the same weight ; inquire whether this 
would not make an alteration in the scales : and again, 
whether metal laid upon wool, or a blown bladder, would 
weigh the same as in the naked scale. 

10. Inquire into the effects of the distance of a body from 



202 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [EOOK V. 

the point of suspension in the communication of the motion 
of gravity ; that is, into the earlier or later perception of its 
inclination or depression : as in scales, -where one side of the 
beam is longer, though of the same weight with the other, 
whether this inclines the beam ; or in siphons, where the 
longer leg will draw the water, though the shorter, being 
made wider, contains a greater weight of water. 

11. Inquire into the effects of intermixing or coupling a 
light body and a heavy one, for lessening the gravity of 
bodies ; as in the weight of creatures alive and dead. 

12. Inquire into the ascents and descents of the lighter 
and heavier parts of one entire body : whence curious sepa- 
rations are often made, as in the separation of wine and 
water, the rising of cream from milk, &c. 

13. Inquire what is the line and direction of the motion 
of gravity, and how far it respects the earth's centre, that is, 
the mass of the earth ; or the centre of its own body, that 
is, the appetite of its parts. For these centres are properly 
supposed in demonstrations, but are otherwise unserviceable 
in nature. 

14. Inquire into the comparative motion of gravity, with 
other motions, or to what motions it yields, and what it ex- 
ceeds. Thus in the motion they call violent, the motion of 
gravity is withheld for a time ; and so when a large weight 
of iron is raised by a little loadstone, the motion of gravity 
gives way to the motion of sympathy. 

15. Inquire concerning the motion of the air, whether it 
rises upwards, or be as it were neutral, which is not easy to 
be discovered without some accurate experiments ; for the 
rising up of air at the bottom of water, rather proceeds from 
a resistance of the water, than the motion of the air, since 
the same also happens in wood. But air mixed with air 
makes no discovery ; for air in air may seem as light, as 
water in water seems heavy : but in bubbles, which are air 
surrounded with a thin pellicle of water, it stands still for a 
time. 

16. Let the bounds of levity be inquired after; for though 
men make the centre of the earth the centre of gravity, 
they will perhaps hardly make the ultimate convexity of the 
heavens the boundary of levity ; but rather, perhaps, as 
heavy bodies seem to be carried so far, that they rest, and 



CHAP. IV.] INDUCTIVE AXD SYLLOGISTIC INFERENCE. 203 

grow as it were immovable ; light bodies are carried so far, 
that they begin a rotation or circular motion. 

17. Inquire the cause wityvapaors and effluvia are carried 
so high as that called the middle region of the air, since the 
matter of them is somewhat gross, and the rays of the sun 
cease alternately by night. 

18. Inquire into the tendency of flame upwards, which is 
the more abstruse, because flame perishes every moment, 
unless perhaps in the midst of larger flames ; for flames 
broken from their continuity are of small duration. 

19. Inquire into the motion and activity of heat upwards; 
as when heat in ignited iron sooner creeps upwards than 
downwards. And thus much by way of example of our 
particular topical inquiry. We must, for a conclusion, admo- 
nish mankind to alter their particular topics in such manner, 
as after some considerable progress made in the inquiry, to 
raise topic after topic, if the} 7 desire to ascend to the pinnacle 
of the sciences. For my own part, I attribute so much to 
these particular topics, that I design a particular work upon 
their use, in the more eminent and obscure subjects of nature ; 
for we are masters of questions, though not of things. And 
here we close the subject of invention. 



CHAPTER IV. 

The Art of Judgment divided into Induction and the Syllogism. Induc- 
tion developed in the Novum Organum. The Syllogism divided into 
Direct and Inverse Reduction. Inverse Reduction divided into the 
Doctrine of Analytics and Confutations. The Division of the latter 
into Confutations of Sophisms, the Unmasking of Vulgarisms (Equi- 
vocal Terms), and the Destruction of Delusive Images or Idols. 
Delusive Appearances divided into Idola Tribils, Idola Speeds, and 
Jdola Fori. Appendix to the Art of Judgment. The Adapting the 
Demonstration to the Nature of the Subject. 

We come now to the art of judgment, which treats of the 
nature of proof or demonstration. This art, as it is com- 
monly received, concludes either by induction or syllogism : 
for enthymemes and examples are only abridgments of these 
two. 8 As to judgment by induction, we need not be large 

a An enthymeme is no other than a syllogism of two propositions, the 
third being supplied by the mind, as the word itself imports. Ed, 



204 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK V. 

upon it, because what is sought we both find and judge of, 
by the same operation of the mind. Nor is the matter here 
transacted by a medium, but directly almost in the same 
manner as by the sense ; for sense, in its primary objects, at 
once seizes the image of the object, and assents to the truth 
of it. It is otherwise in syllogism, whose proof is not direct, 
but mediate ; and, therefore, the invention of the medium 
is one thing, and judgment, as to the consequence of an 
argument, another : for the mind first casts about, and after- 
wards acquiesces. But for the corrupt form of induction, 
we entirely ignore it, and refer the genuine one to our 
method of interpreting nature. And thus much of judg- 
ment by induction. 

The other by syllogism is worn by the file of many a sub- 
tile genius, and reduced to numerous fragments, as having a 
great sympathy with the human understanding ; for the 
mind is wonderfully bent against fluctuating, and endeavours 
to find something fixed and immovable, upon which, as a 
firm basis, to rest in its inquiries. And as Aristotle endea- 
vours to prove that, in all motion of bodies, there is some- 
thing still at rest, and elegantly explains the ancient fable of 
Atlas, sustaining the heavens on his shoulders, of the poles 
of the world, about which the revolutions are performed : b 
so men have a strong desire to retain within themselves an 
atlas, or pole for their thoughts, in some measure to govern 
the fluctuations and revolutions of the understanding, as 
otherwise fearing their heaven should tumble. And hence 
it is, that they have been ever hasty in laying the principles 
of the sciences, about which all the variety of disputes might 
turn without danger of falling ; not at all regarding, that 
whoever too hastily catches at certainties shall end in doubts, 
as he who seasonably withholds his judgment shall arrive at 
certainties. 

It is therefore manifest that this art of judging by 
syllogism is nothing more than a reduction of propositions 
to their principles by middle terms. c But principles are 

b Animal. Mot. 3. 

c Bacon here only gives us a loose translation of the Dictum cle omne 
et nullo, as inclosing the essentiality of the syllogism. Thus, to develop 
his thought, when a certain attribute does not appeaV to belong to a 
proposed subject, the logician presents another subject, in which the con- 
tested quality is admitted by his hearers to enter, and having shown that 



CHAP. IV.] THE DOCTRINE OF CONFUTATIONS. 20-5 

supposed to be received by consent, and exempt from 
question, whilst the invention of middle terms is freely per- 
mitted to the subtilty and investigation of the wit. This 
reduction is of two kinds, direct and inverse. It is direct 
when the proposition itself is reduced to the principle, 
and this is called ostensive proof: it is inverse when the 
contradictory of the proposition is reduced to the contra- 
dictory of the principle, which they call proof by absurdity : 
but the number or scale of the middle term is diminished, 
or increased, according to the remoteness of the proposition 
from the principled 

Upomthis foundation we divide the art of judgment nearly, 
as usual, into analytics, and the doctrine of elenches, or con- 
futations ; the first whereof supplies direction, and the other 
caution : for analytics directs the true forms of the con- 
sequences of arguments, from which, if we vary, we make a 
wrong conclusion. And this itself contains a kind of elench, 
or confutation ; for what is right shows not only itself, but 
also what is wrong. Yet it is safest to employ elenches as 
monitors, the easier to discover fallacies, which would other- 
wise ensnare the judgment. We find no deficiency in 



this newsubject — the middle term — maybe affirmed of the original subject 
with which he set out, he concludes that its inseparable attribute must 
also belong to it. If these two primary propositions, viz. those which 
affirm the attribute of the middle term, and connect this term with the 
original subject, need proof, he is obliged to seek other middle terms, 
and employ them in the same manner, until he establish his disputed 
premises on the basis of experience or consentaneous principles. If 
such fundaments, common to the minds of the disputants, do not 
exist, the argument is nugatory, and rational conviction impossi- 
ble. Ed. 

d For no proof can be considered conclusive, unless the conclusion be 
an immediate consequence from the propositions which involve the 
last middle term. Now, if the proposition we seek to establish be par- 
ticular (singular), and the principle from which we set out general 
(universal), it is clear that, to connect principle and consequent, we 
must either climb gradually from principles less general to ones more 
enlarged, until we reach a proposition which connects the last consequent 
with the general principle in question ; or we must descend by a similar 
gradation from principles less general to others more particular, until we 
reach the proposition which affirms the last consequence of the particular 
conclusion. The number, therefore, of these intermediate links, must 
augment or diminish in proportion to the interval which separates the 
principle and consequent. Ed. 



206 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. [BOOK V 

analytics; for it is rather loaded with superfluities than defi- 
cient. 6 

We divide the doctrine of confutations into three parts ; 
viz., 1. The confutation of sophisms ; 2. The confutation of 
interpretation ; and 3. The confutation of images or idols. 
The doctrine of the confutation of sophisms is extremely 
useful : for although a gross kind, of fallacy is not improperly 
compared, by Seneca, to the tricks of jugglers/ where we 
know not by what means the things are performed, but are 
well assured they are not as they appear to be, yet the more 
subtile sophisms not only supply occasions of answer, but 
also in reality confound the judgment. This part concerning 
the confutation of sophisms is, in precept, excellently treated 
by Aristotle, but still better by Plato, in example ; not only 
in the persons of the ancient sophists, Gorgias, Hippias, 
Protagoras, Euthydemus, &c, but even in the person of 
Socrates himself, s who, always professing to affirm nothing, 
but to confute what was produced by others, has ingeniously 
expressed the several forms of objections, fallacies, and con- 
futations. Therefore in this part we find no deficiency, but 
only observe by the way, that though we place the true 
and principal use of this doctrine in the confutation of 
sophisms, yet it is plain that its degenerate and corrupt 
use tends to the raising of cavils and contradictions, by 
means of those sophisms themselves ; which kind of faculty is 
highly esteemed, and has no small uses, though it is a good 
distinction made between the orator and the sophist, that 
the former excels in swiftness, as the greyhound, the other 
in the turn, as the hare. 

With regard to the confutations of interpretation, we 
must here repeat what was formerly said of the transcen- 
dental and adventitious conditions of beings, such as greater, 
less, whole, parts, motion, rest, &c. For the different way 
of considering these things, which is either physically or 
logically, must be remembered. 11 The physical treatment of 

e Upon the subject of analytics, see Weigelius in his <l Analysis 
Aristotelica, ex Euclicle restituta;" and Morhof in his "Polyhistor," 
torn. i. lib. ii. c. 7, de Methodis variis. 

f Epist. 45, c 7. s See the opening of the Theaetetus. 

h He might have added, mathematically, as greater and less have 
different significations in arithmetic and algebra. Ed. 



CHAP. IV.] CONFUTATION OF IDOLS. 207 

them we have allotted to primary philosophy, but their 
logical treatment is what we here call the confutation of 
interpretation. And tins we take for a sound and excellent 
part of learning, as general and common notions, unless 
accurately and judiciously distinguished from their origin, 
are apt to mix themselves in all disputes, so as strangely to 
cloud and darken the light of the question, and frequently 
occasion the controversy to end in a quarrel about words : 
for equivocations and wrong acceptations of words, especially 
of this kind, are the sophisms of sophisms ;* wherefore it is 
better to treat of them separate than either to receive them 
into primary philosophy or metaphysics, or again, to make 
them a part of analytics, as Aristotle has confusedly done. 
We give this doctrine a name from its use, because its true use 
is indeed redargution and caution about the employing of 
words. So, likewise, that part concerning predicaments, if 
rightly treated, as to the cautions against confounding or 
transposing the terms of definitions and divisions, is of prin- 
cipal use, and belongs to the present article. And thus 
much for the confutation of interpretation. 

As to the confutations of images, or idols, we observe that 
idols are the deepest fallacies of the human mind ; for they 
do not deceive in particulars, as the rest, by clouding and 
ensnaring the judgment ; but from a corrupt predisposition, 
or bad complexion of the mind, which distorts and infects 
all the anticipations of the understanding. For the mind, 
darkened by its covering the body, is far from being a flat, 
equal, and clear mirror that receives and reflects the rays 
without mixture, but rather a magical glass, full of super- 
stitions and apparitions. Idols are imposed upon the under- 
standing, either, 1. by the general nature of mankind ; 2. the 
nature of each particular man ; or 3. by words, or commu- 
cative nature. The first kind we call idols of the tribe ; 
the second kind, idols of the den ; and the third kind, idols 
of the market. There is also a fourth kind, which we call 
idols of the theatre, being superinduced by false theories, or 
philosophies, and the perverted laws of demonstration. This 
last kind we are not at present concerned with, as it may be 

1 Rather, vulgarisms ; since sophisms imply a use of the intellect, 
though a perverted use ; but the wrong acceptations of words imply no 
use at all. Ed. 



208 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK V. 

rejected and laid aside ; but the others seize the mind 
strongly, and cannot be totally eradicated. Therefore no 
art of analytics can be expected here, but the doctrine of the 
confutation of idols is the primary doctrine of idols. Nor 
indeed can the doctrine of idols be reduced to an art, but 
can only be employed by means of a certain contemplative 
prudence to prevent them. 

For the idols of the tribe, k it is observable, that the nature 
of the understanding is more affected with affirmatives and 
actives than with negatives and privatives, though in just- 
ness it should be equally affected with them both ; but if 
things fall out right, or keep their course, the nrind receives 
a stronger impression of this than of a much greater number 
of failures, or contrary events, which is the root of all super- 
stition and credulity. Hence Diagoras, being shown in 
Neptune's temple many votive pictures of such as had 
escaped shipwreck, and thereupon asked by his guide, if he 
did not now acknowledge the divine power? answered 
wisely, " But first show me where those are painted that were 
shipwrecked, after having thus paid their vows." 1 And the 
case is the same, in the similar superstitions of astrological 
predictions, dreams, omens, &c. Again, the mind, being of 
itself an equal and uniform substance, presupposes a greater 
unanimity and uniformity in the nature of things than there 
really is, as may be observed in astronomical mathematicians, 
who, rejecting spiral lines, assert that the heavenly bodies 
move in perfect circles; 111 whence our thoughts are continually 
drawing parallels, and supposing relations in many things 
that are truly different and singular. Hence the chemists 
have fantastically imagined their four principles correspond- 

k These might otherwise be called partial idols, as owing to the par- 
tiality or obliquity of the mind, which has its particular bent, and 
admits of some things more readily than others, without a manifest 
reason assigned for it to the understanding. However this be, they 
manifestly belong to the tribe of mankind. Shaw. 

1 Cicero, Natur. Deor. v. 9. 

m The observations of Bradley and Molyneux directly establish the 
elliptical orbit, in which the earth performs its yearly revolution. The 
spiral lines, which Bacon suggests in place of the concentric and ellip- 
tical theory, are only the apparent paths which the planets seem to 
follow when viewed by the naked eye, and have long since, with 
the cumbersome machinery oi Ptolemy, been swept from the heavens. Ed. 



CHAP. IV.] CONFUTATION OF IDOLS. 209 

ing to the heaven s, air, earth, and water ; dreaming that the 
series of existences formed a kind of square battalion, and 
that each element contained species of beings corresponding 
to each other, and possessing, as it were, parallel properties. 11 
And again, men make themselves, as it were, the mirror 
and rule of nature. It is incredible what a number of 
idols have been introduced into philosophy by the reduc- 
tion of natural operations to a correspondence with human 
actions; that is, by imagining nature acts as man does, 
which is not much better than the heresy of the anthro- 
pomorphites, that sprung up in the cells and solitude of 
ignorant monks ;° or the opinion of Epicurus, who attributed 
a human figure to the gods. Yelleius the Epicurean need 
not, therefore, have asked why God should have adorned the 
heavens with stars and lights, as master of the works ? Eor 
if the grand architect had acted a human part, he would 
have ranged the stars into some beautiful and elegant order, 
as we see in the vaulted roofs of palaces ; whereas we scarce 
find among such an infinite multitude of stars any figure 
either square, triangular, or rectilinear ; so great a difference 
is there betwixt the spirit of man, and the spirit of the 
universe. 

The idols of the den have their origin from the peculiar 
nature, both of mind and body, in each person ; as also from 
education, custom, and the accidents of particular persons. 
It is a beautiful emblem, that of Plato's den ;P for, to drop 
the exquisite subtilty of the parable, if any one should be 
educated from his infancy in a dark cave till he were of full 
age, and should then of a sudden be brought into broad day- 
light, and behold this apparatus of the heavens and of things, 
no doubt but many strange and absurd fancies would arise 
in his mind ; and though men live indeed in the view of 
the heavens, yet pur minds are confined in the caverns of 
our bodies ; whence of necessity we receive infinite images 
of errors and falsehoods, if the mind does but. seldom, and 
only for a short continuance, leave its den, and not constantly 
dwell in the contemplation of nature, as it were, in the open 
daylight. And with this emblem of Plato's den agrees the 

■ This hypothesis gave rise to the romance of Lamekis. 
° Epiphanius, adv. Hser. p. 811, in which the heresy of Audius is 
explained. p Eepub. vii. 

2 p 



210 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK V- 

saying of Heraclitus ; viz., that men seek the sciences in 
their own narrow worlds, and not in the wide one. 

But the idols of the market give the greatest disturbance, 
and from a tacit agreement among mankind, with regard to 
the imposition of words and names, insinuate themselves into 
the understanding : for words are generally given according 
to vulgar conception, and divide things by such differences 
as the common people are capable of: but when a more 
acute understanding, or a more careful observation, would 
distinguish things better, words murmur against it. The 
remedy of this lies in definitions; but these themselves are 
in many respects irremediable, as consisting of words : for 
words generate words, however men may imagine they have 
a command over words, and can easily say they will speak 
with the vulgar, and think with the wise. Terms of art 
also, which prevail only among the skilful, may seem to 
remedy the mischief, and definitions premised to arts in the 
prudent mathematical manner, to correct the wrong accep- 
tation of words ; yet all this is insufficient to prevent the 
seducing incantation of names in numerous respects, their 
doing violence to the understanding, and recoiling upon it, 
from whence they proceeded. This evil, therefore, requires a 
new and a deeper remedy ; but these things we touch lightly 
at present, in the mean time noting this doctrine of grand 
confutations, or the doctrine of the native and adventitious 
idols of the mind, for deficient. 

There is also wanting a considerable appendix to the art 
of judgir.cn t. Aristotle indeed marks out the thing, but has 
now -\ere delivered the manner of effecting it. The design is 
to show what demonstrations should be applied to what 
subjects, so that this doctrine should contain the judging of 
judgments. For Aristotle well observes, that we should not 
require demonstrations from orators, nor persuasion from 
mathematicians ;<1 so that if we err in "the kind of proof, 
judgment itself cannot be perfect. And as there are four 
kinds of demonstration, viz., 1. by immediate consent and 
common notions ; 2. by induction ; 3. by syllogism ; and 4. 
by congruity, r which Aristotle justly calls demonstration in 

'i Ethics, xiii. 1. 

r Analogical demonstration, or proof a latere, to which Bacon seems 
to refer, consists in showing that the disputed attribute may be affirmed 



CHAP. V.] THE NATURE OF MEMOKY. 211 

circle,* 3 each of these demonstrations lias its peculiar subjects, 
and parts of the sciences, wherein they are of force, and 
others again from which they are excluded ; for insisting 
upon too strict proofs in some cases, and still more the faci- 
lity and remissness in resting upon slight proofs in others, is 
what has greatly prejudiced and obstructed the sciences. 
And so much for the art of judgment. 



CHAPTER V. 

Division of the Retentive Art into the Aids of the Memory and the 
Nature of the Memory itself. Division of the Doctrine of Memory 
into Prenotion and Emblem. 

We divide the art of memory, or the keeping and retain- 
ing of knowladge, into two parts ; viz., the doctrine of helps 

of several subjects analogical to the one proposed, and thence proceeds 
to draw the inference that such attribute enters also into the subject in 
question. In addition to these three last kinds of mediate positive 
proof, there are three others, which may be called mediate negative ; 
viz., 1. a posteriori, which in inferring conclusions erroneous from the 
contradictory of that which is sought to be maintained, shows that the 
opposition is formed on false principles, and establishes the truth of 
their contradictories. 2. a priori, which in showing that the contra- 
dictory of the original proposition is a necessary consequence of some 
exploded principle, and also contradictory to the principle of which the 
contested proposition is also a consequence, infers the truth of such pro- 
position with the principle of which it is a corollary. 3. a latere, whose 
object is to show that the attribute diametrically opposite to the one in 
question, agrees with a subject also diametrically opposite to the one 
proposed, that the last attribute may be inferred to agree with the 
last subject. Ed. 

3 Bacon seems to imply that Aristotle not only admitted demonstration 
in a circle, but even understood it in the sense of analogical proof or 
demonstration a latere ; whereas the Stagyrite only introduced the term 
for the purpose of controverting it. Some of the ancient materialists, 
in order to rid themselves of the illogical consequences of a series of 
proofs ad infinitum, in which the denial of first principles involved them, 
asserted the possibility of demonstrating all things from each other, a 
line of argument in which the chain of proof would run into itself : 
ctXXa Tcavrojv elvai, cnzo^u^iv ovdev kojXvel' £vO£%£rcrt yap kvkX((J 
yevkaQai rijv ctTroStiliv Kal iZ, aXXijXwv. (Arist. Anal. Post. i. 3.) The 
Stagyrite, however, confronted this assertion with the reason, that de- 
monstration could only be effected by evolving new truths out of things 
prior and more known, and pronounced the formation of a body of sci- 
entific truths without admitting first principles more palpable to the 
mind than any proof could make them, impossible. See, also, Arist. 
Analyt, Pri. ii. 5, 1. Ed, 

p2 



212 ADVANCEMENT OF LEABNING. [BOOK V. 

for the memory, and the doctrine of the memory itself. The 
help for the memory is writing ; and we must observe, that 
the memory, without this assistance, is unequal to things of 
length and accuracy, and ought not otherwise to be trusted. 
And this holds particularly in inductive philosophy, and in 
the interpretation of nature ; for one might as well under- 
take to make an almanack by the memory, without writing, 
as to interpret nature by bare contemplation. Scarce any- 
thing can be more useful in the ancient and popular sciences 
than a true and solid help for the memory, that is, a just 
and learned digest of common-places. Some, indeed, con- 
demn this method as prejudicial to erudition, hindering the 
course of reading, and rendering the memory indolent ; but 
as it is a wrong procedure in the sciences to be over-hasty 
and quick, we judge it is of great service in studies, unless a 
man be solid, and completely instructed, to bestow diligence 
and labour in setting down common-places ; as it affords 
matter to invention, and collects and strengthens the judg- 
ment. But among all the methods and common-place books 
we have hitherto seen, there is not one of value ; a as savouring 
of the school rather than the world, and using rather vulgar 
and pedantical divisions than such as any way penetrate 
things. 

And for the memory itself, it seems hitherto to have been 
negligently and superficially inquired into. There is, indeed, 
some art of memory extant ; but I know that much better 
precepts for confirming and enlarging the memory may be 
had than this art contains, and that a better practice of the 
art itself may be formed than what is at present received. 
And I doubt not, if any one were disposed to make an osten- 
tatious show of this art, that many surprising things might be 
performed by it ; and yet, as now managed, it is but barren 
and useless. We do not, however, pretend that it spoils or 
surcharges the natural memory, which is the common objec- 
tion, but that it is not dexterously applied for assisting the 
memory in real business, and serious affairs. But this turn, 

a Upon the subject of common-place, consult Morhof's "Polyhistor," 
torn. i. lib. i. cap. 21, de Locorum Communium Scriptoribus ; Mr. 
Locke's common-place, in his "Discourse of the Conduct of the Under- 
standing;" and Julian's "Emploi du Temps." Shaiv. 



CHAP. V.] THE ABT OF MEMORY. 213 

perhaps, I may receive from the political course of life I have 
led, never to value what has the appearance of art without 
any use. For immediately to repeat a multitude of names, 
or words, once repeated before, or off-hand to compose a 
great number of verses upon a subject, or to touch any mat- 
ter that occasionally turns up with a satirical comparison, or 
to turn serious things into jest, or to elude anything by con- 
tradiction, or cavil, &c., of all which faculties there is a great 
fund in the mind, and which may, by a proper capacity and 
exercise, be carried to almost a miraculous height ; yet I 
esteem all the things of this kind no more than rope-dancing, 
antic postures, and feats of activity. And indeed they are 
nearly the same things, the one being an abuse of the bodily, 
as the other is of the mental powers ; and though they may 
cause admiration, they cannot be highly esteemed. 

This art of memory has two intentions ; viz., prenotion 
and emblem. By prenotion we understand the breaking off 
of an endless search ; for when one endeavours to call any- 
thing to mind without some previous notion, or perception 
of what is sought for, the mind strives and exerts itself, 
endeavours and casts about in an endless manner ; but if it 
hath any certain notion beforehand, the infinity of the 
search is presently cut short, and the mind hunts nearer 
home as in an inclosure. Order, therefore, is a manifest help 
to memory ; for here there is a previous notion, that the 
things sought for must be agreeable to order. And thus 
verse is easier remembered than prose, because if we stick at 
any word in verse, we have a previous notion that it is such 
a word as must stand in the verse, and this prenotion is the 
first part of artificial memory. For in artificial memory we 
have certain places digested, and proposed beforehand ; but 
we make images extemporary as they are required, wherein 
we have a previous notion that the image must be such as 
may, in some measure, correspond to its place; while this 
stimulates the memory, and, as it were, strengthens it to find 
out the thing sought for. 

But emblems bring down intellectual to sensible things; 
for what is sensible always strikes the memory stronger, and 
sooner impresses itself than what is intellectual. Thus the 
memory ot brutes is excited by sensible, but not by intel- 



214 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VI. 

lectual things. And, therefore, it is easier to retain the 
image of a sportsman hunting the hare, of an apothecary 
ranging his boxes, an orator making a speech, a boy re- 
peating verses, or a player acting his part, than the corre- 
sponding notions of invention, disposition, elocution, memory, 
and action. There are also other things that contribute to 
assist the memory, but the art at present in use consists of 
the two above mentioned ; b and to treat of the particular 
defects of the arts is foreign to our present purpose. 



SIXTH BOOK. 



CHAPTER I. 

Division of Tradition into the Doctrine of the Organ, the Method and 
the Illustration of Speech. The Organ of Speech divided into the 
Knowledge of the Marks of Things, of Speaking, and "Writing. The 
two last comprise the two Branches of Grammar. The Marks of 
Things divided into Hieroglyphics and Beal Characters. Grammar 
again divided into Literary and Philosophical. Prosody referred to 
the Doctrine of Speech, and Ciphers to the Department of Writing. 

Any man may, excellent King, when he pleases, take the 
liberty to jest and laugh at himself or his own projects. 
Who, then, knows, — as there is a book in the famous library 
of St. Victor, entitled * Formicarum Artium," a whether our 
book may not be an accidental transcript of its contents. 
We have indeed only accumulated a little heap of dust, and 
deposited therein many grains of the arts and sciences 
whereto ants may creep to repose awhile, and then betake 
themselves to their labours: nay, the wisest of kings points 
out the ant as an example to those whose only care is to 

b I suppose that the art of memory, now commonly taught by memory- 
masters, is little more than a lecture upon the foundations here laid 
down ; and perhaps their secrets are disclosed in Sir Hugh Plat's 
™ Jewel House of Art and Nature," printed in London in the year 1653. 
See page 77 — 80 of that edition. Consult also upon the means of im- 
proving the memory, Morhof's "Polyhistor," torn. i. lib. ii. cap. 4, 
de Subsidiis dirigendi Judicii. Skaw. [Grey's " Memoria Technica " 
and Femagle's " Art of Memory" are the modern works on the same 
subject. Ed.] a Pantagruel, ii. 7, p. 76. 



CHAP. I.] WORDS AXD THEIR SIGXS. 215 

live upon the main stock, neglecting to cultivate the fields 
of science, and reap a new harvest of disco veriest 

We next proceed to the art of delivering, uttering, and 
communicating such things as are discovered, judged of, and 
treasured up in the memory ; and this we call by the general 
name of traditive doctrine, which takes in all the arts relating 
to words and discourse. For although reason be as the soul 
of discourse, yet they ought both to be treated separate, no 
less than the soul and body. We divide tins traditive doc- 
trine into three parts; viz., with regard, 1. to the organ; 2. the 
method; and 3. the illustration or ornament of speech and 
discourse. 

The vulgar doctrine of the organ of speech called grammar 
is of two kinds, the one having relation to speaking, the 
other to writing. For, as Aristotle well observed, words are 
the marks of thoughts, and letters of words ; and w r e refer 
both of these to grammar. But before we proceed to its 
several parts, it is necessary to say something in general ot 
the organ of this traditive doctrine, because it seems to have 
more descendants besides words and letters. And here we 
observe, that whatever may be split into differences, suffi- 
ciently numerous for explaining the variety of notions, 
provided these differences are sensible, may be a means oi* 
conveying the thoughts from man to man ; for we find that 
nations of different languages hold a commerce, in some 
tolerable degree, by gestures. And from the practice oi* 
some persons born deaf and dumb, but otherwise ingenious, 
we see conversation may be held betwixt them and such of 
their friends as have learned their gestures. And it is now 
well known, that in China and the more eastern provinces, 
they use at this day certain real, not nominal characters, d to 

b Pantagruel, ii. 6, 6. c Interpret, i. 2. 

d The original is, "nee Uteres nee verba," which in Latin signify oral as 
well as- written language; so that, to avoid equivocation, we should annex 
the two adjectives, sonorous and written, to fix their signification. With 
regard to the relation which exists between the oral and written speech 
of the Chinese, it is, as the text would imply, not different from that 
which prevails among us. In articulating, we pronounce as the Chinese 
the sonorous signs which correspond to the written words, and their art 
of reading, no less than ours, consists in the struggle to transplant this 
correspondence in our minds, and learn its reciprocal relations. Even 
allowing that the Chinese, in addition to their vulgar tongue, had 



216 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VI. 

express, not their letters or words, but things and notions; 
insomuch, that numerous nations, though of quite different 
languages, yet, agreeing in the use of these characters, hold 
correspondence by writing. e And thus a book written in such 
characters, may be read and interpreted by each nation in its 
own respective language. 

The signs of things significative without the help or in- 
terposition of words are therefore of two kinds, the one 
congruous, the one arbitrary. Of the first kind, are hiero- 
glyphics and gestures ; of the second, real characters. The 
use of hieroglyphics is of great antiquity, being held in 
veneration, especially among that most ancient nation, the 
Egyptians, insomuch that this seems to have been an early 
kind of writing, prior to the invention of letters, unless, 
perhaps, among the Jews. f And gestures are a kind of 
transitory hieroglyphics ; for as words are fleeting in the 
pronunciation, but permanent when written down, so hiero- 
glyphics, expressed "by gesture, are momentary; but when 

adopted hieroglypliical writing, so designed as to convey, without the in- 
terposition of oral signs, the exact ideas which they represent, yet each of 
these signs would invariably awaken the idea which represented it in the 
oral language, as well as the vocal word refer to the idea indicated by 
the written hieroglyphic. The only persons who appear not to intrude 
intermediate signs between the hieroglyphic and the idea which it con- 
veys to the mind, are those who are incapacitated by nature. But in 
this respect there is no resemblance between the deaf and dumb and 
our Asiatic contemporaries. 

Bacon therefore has not seized the exact distinction ^between the 
Chinese writing and our own, which consists not in dispensing with vocal 
signs, but in the diversified elements of which it is composed. Our 
language contains only twenty-five letters, while the Chinese letters are 
as innumerable as our words ; and what makes the distinction perhaps 
more startling, there never has been an attempt on the part of that 
nation to analyze this infinite series of words, or to reduce them to the 
common elements of vocal sounds. Through this want of philosophic 
analysis, which characterizes nearly all the Asiatic tribes, the Chinese 
may be said never perfectly to understand their own language. Ed. 

e See Spizelius " De Be Literaria Chinensium/' ed. Lugd. Bat. 
1660 ; Webb's " Historical Essay upon the Chinese Language," printed 
at London, 1669 ; Father Besnier's " Reunion des Langues;" Father le 
Compe, and other of the Missionaries' Letters. Ed. 

f See Causinus's "Polyhistor Symbolicus," and " Symbolica iEgyp- 
tiorum Sapientia," ed. Par. 1618. And for other writers upon this 
subject, see Morhofs " Polyhistor," torn. i. lib. iv. cap. 2, de Variis 
Scripturse Modis. Ed. 



i 



CHAP. I.] SIGNS OF THINGS WITHOUT WORDS. 217 

painted, durable. When Periander, being consulted how to 
preserve a tyranny newly usurped, bid the messenger report 
what he saw ; and going into the garden, cropped all the tallest 
flowers ; s he thus used as strong an hieroglyphic as if he had 
drawn it upon paper. 

Again, it is plain that hieroglyphics and gestures have 
always some similitude with the things signified, and are in 
reality emblems ; whence we call them congruous marks of 
things : but real characters have nothing of emblem, as being 
no less mute than the elementary letters themselves, and in- 
vented altogether at discretion, though received by custom 
as by a tacit agreement. Yet it is manifest that a great 
number of them is required in writing ; for they must be as 
numerous as the radical words. This doctrine, therefore, 
concerning the organ of speech, that is, the marks of things, 
we set down as wanting ; for although it may seem a matter 
of little use, whilst words and writing with letters are much 
more commodious organs of delivery ; yet we think proper 
here to mention it as no inconsiderable thing. For whilst 
we are treating, as it were, of the coin of intellectual matters, 
it is not improper to observe that as money may be made of 
other materials besides gold and silver, so other marks of 
things may be invented besides words and letters. 11 

Grammar holds the place of a conductor in respect of the 
other sciences; and though tie office be not noble, it is 
extremely necessary, especially as the sciences in our times 
are chiefly derived from the learned languages. Nor should 
this art be thought of small dignity, since it acts as an 
antidote against the curse of Babel, the confusion of tongues. 
Indeed, human industry strongly endeavours to recover those 



* Arist. Polit. iii. 13. The person who sent to consult Periander was 
Thrasybulus of Miletus. Herodotus (v. 92) gives the opposite version of 
the story, making Periander consult Thrasybulus. Compare the story 
of Tarquin, told by Ovid, Fast. ii. 701. 

h On this foundation, Bishop Wilkins undertook his laborious treatise 
of a real character, or philosophical language ; though Dalgarn pub- 
lished a treatise on the same subject before him ; viz. at London, in the 
year 1661. In the same year, Becher also published another to the 
same purpose at Frankfort, entitled " Character pro Notitia Linguarum 
Universali." See more upon this subject in Joachim Fritschii "Lingua 
Ludovicea," Kircher's "Polygraphia," Paschius's " Inventa Nova- An- 
tiqua," and Morhofs " Polyhistor." Shaiv. 



218 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VI. 

enjoyments it lost through its own default. Thus it guards 
against the first general curse, the sterility of the earth, and 
the eating our bread in the sweat of the brow, by all the 
other arts ; as against the second, the confusion of languages, 
it calls in the assistance of grammar. Though this art is of 
little use in any maternal language, but more serviceable in 
learning the foreign ones, and most of all in the dead ones, 
which now cease to be popular, and are only preserved in 
books. 

We divide grammar also into two parts, — literary and philo- 
sophical ; the one employed simply about tongues themselves, 
in order to their being more expeditiously learned or more 
correctly spoken, but the other is in some sort subservient to 
philosophy ; in which view Csesar wrote his books of Analogy, 1 
though we have some doubt whether they treated of the 
philosophical grammar now under consideration. We suspect, 
however, that they contained nothing very subtile or sublime, 
but only delivered precepts of pure and correct discourse, 
neither corrupted by any vulgar, depraved phrases, and cus- 
toms of speech, nor vitiated by affectation : in which parti- 
cular the author himself excelled. Admonished by this 
procedure, I have formed in my thoughts a certain grammar, 
not upon any analogy which words bear to each other, but 
such as should diligently examine the analogy or relation 
betwixt words and things, yet without any of that hermeneu- 
tical doctrine, or doctrine of interpretation, which is sub- 
servient to logic. It is certain that words are the traces or 
impressions of reason ; and impressions afford some indication 
of the body that made them. I will, therefore, here give a 
small sketch of the thing. 

And first, we cannot approve that curious inquiry, which 
Plato however did not contemn, about the imposition and 
original etymology of names, k as supposing them not given 
arbitrarily at first, but rationally and scientifically derived 
and deduced. This indeed is an elegant, and, as it were, a 
waxen subject, which may handsomely be wrought and 
twisted ; but because it seems to search the very bowels of 
antiquity, it has an awful appearance, though attended with 
but little truth and advantage. But it would be a noble 

1 SuetoniWa Life. k Cratyl. 



CHAP. I.] GRAMMAR LITERARY AND PHILOSOPHICAL. 219 

kind of a grammar, if any one, well versed in numerous 
languages, both the learned and vulgar, should treat of their 
various properties, and show wherein each of them excelled 
and fell short ; for thus languages might be enriched by 
mutual commerce, and one beautiful image of speech, or one 
grand model of language for justly expressing the sense of the 
mind, formed, like the Venus of Apelles, from the excellencies 
of several. And thus we should, at the same time, have 
some considerable marks of the genius and manners of people 
and nations from their respective languages. Cicero agree- 
ably remarks, that the Greeks had no word to express the 
Latin ineptum ; l " Because," says he, "the fault it denotes 
was so familiar among them, that they could not see it in 
themselves ;" a censure not unbecoming the Roman gravity. 
And as the Greeks used so great a licentiousness in com- 
pounding words, which the Romans so religiously abstained 
from, it may hence be collected that the Greeks were better 
fitted for arts, and the Romans for exploits ; as variety of 
arts makes compound words in a manner necessary, whilst 
civil business, and the affairs of nations, require a greater 
simplicity of expression. The Jews were so averse to these 
compositions, that they would rather strain a metaphor than 
introduce them. Nay, they used so few words and so un- 
mixed, that we may plainly perceive from their language 
they were a Nazarite people, and separate from other nations. 
It is also worth observing, though it may seem a little 
ungrateful to modern ears, that the ancient languages are full 
of declensions, cases, conjugations, tenses, and the like ; but 
the later languages, being almost destitute of them, slothful ly 
express many things by prepositions and auxiliary verbs. 
For from hence it may easily be conjectured, that the genius 
of former ages, however we may flatter ourselves, was much 
more acute than our own. And there are things enough of 
this kind to make a volume. It seems reasonable, therefore, 
to distinguish a philosophical grammar from a simple literary 
one, and to set it down as deficient." 1 

1 Orator, ii. 4. 

m Considerable pains have been bestowed upon this subject by various 
authors ; an account whereof is given by Morhof in his " Polyhistor." 
See torn. i. lib. iv. cap. 3, 4, 5; or more particularly, Abraham Mylii 
"De Linguae Belgicse cum aliisLinguisConmiunitate ;" Henrici Scheevii 



220 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. [BOOK VI. 

All the accidence of words, — as sound, measure, accent, — 
likewise belong to grammar; but the primary elements of 
simple letters, or the inquiry with what percussion of the 
tongue, opening of the mouth, motion of the lips, and use of 
the throat, the sound of each letter is produced, has no rela- 
tion to grammar, but is a part of the doctrine of sounds, to 
be treated under sense and sensible objects. 11 The gramma- 
tical sound we speak of regards only sweetness and harsh- 
ness. Some harsh and sweet sounds are general; for there is 
no language but in some degree avoids the chasms of concur- 
ring vowels or the roughness of concurring consonants. There 
are others particular or respective, and pleasing or displeasing 
to the ears of different nations. The Greek language abounds 
in diphthongs, which the Roman uses much more sparingly, 
and so of the rest. The Spanish tongue avoids letters of 
a shrill sound, and changes them into letters of a middle tone. 
The languages of the Teutonic stock delight in aspirates, and 
numerous others which we have not space to cite. 

But the measure of words has produced a large body of 
art ; viz., poetry, considered not with regard to its matter, 
which was considered above, but its style and the structure 
of words ; that is, versification ; which, though held as 
trivial, is honoured with great and numerous examples. 
Nor should this art, which the grammarians call prosodia, be 
confined only to teaching the kinds of verse and measure ; 
but precepts also should be added, as to what kind of verse 
is agreeable to every subject. The ancients applied heroic 
verse to encomium, elegy to complaint, iambic to invective, 
and lyric to ode and hymn ; and the same has been pru- 
dently observed by the modern poets, each in his own 
language : only they deserve censure in this, that some of 
them, through affectation of antiquity, have endeavoured to 
set the modern languages to ancient measure ; as sapphic, 
elegiac, &c, which is both disagreeable to the ear, and con- 

" Dissertation es Philologies de Origine Linguarum et quibusclam earum 
attributis;" Thorn. Iiayne "De Linguis in genere, et de variarum 
Linguarum Harmonia/' in the appendix to his "Grammaticas Latinas 
Compendium," and Dr. Wallis's " Grammatica Linguae Anglicanaa." Ed. 
n This is the subject which J. Conrad. Amman has prosecuted with 
great diligence, in his " Surdus loquens," and "Dissertatio de Loquela ;"- 
first printed at Amsterdam in 1692, and the last in 1700. Shaw. 



CHAP. I.] PLAIN WRITING AND CIPHEE. 221 

trary to the structure of such languages. And in these 
cases, the judgment of the sense is to be preferred to the 
precepts of art. As the poet says, 

" Ccense FerculaB nostrse 

Mallem convivis quam placuisse cocis."P 

Nor is this an art, but the abuse of art, as it does not perfect 
nature, but corrupt her. As to poetry, both with regard to 
its fable and its verse, it is like a luxuriant plant, sprouting 
not from seed, but by the mere vigour of the soil ; whence 
it everywhere creeps up, and spreads itself so wide, that it 
were endless to be solicitous about its defects. And as to 
the accents of words, there is no necessity for taking notice 
of so trivial a thing ; only it may be proper to intimate, that 
these are observed with great exactness, whilst the accents of 
sentences are neglected ; though it is nearly common to all 
mankind to sink the voice at the end of a period, to raise it 
in interrogatioD, and the like.** And so much for that part 
of grammar which regards speaking. 

Writing is practised either by means of the common 
alphabet, now vulgarly received, or of a secret and private 
one, agreed upon betwixt particular persons, and called by 
the name of cipher. But here a question arises about the 
common orthography ; viz., whether words should be wrote as 
they are pronounced, or after the common manner ? Cer- 
tainly that reformed kind of writing, according to the pro- 
nunciation, is but an useless speculation, because pronunciation 
itself is continually changing, and the derivations of words, 
especially from the foreign languages, are very obscure ; and 
lastly, as writing in the received manner no way obstructs 
the manner of pronunciation, but leaves it free, an innovation 
in it is to no purpose. 

There are several kinds of ciphers, as the simple/ those 
mixed with non- significants, 55 those consisting of two kinds 

° For some examples of this kind, see Scuthey's Epics. 

p Martial, Epig. ix. 82. 

i The stage having cultivated the accentuation of sentences more than 
the school, the rules of the art might, perhaps, to advantage, be bor- 
rowed t'om thence, in order to form an early habit of graceful speaking. 
Shaw. 

r In which each letter corresponds to a different letter of the alphabet. 
Ed. 

s That is, joined to other letters and words, the juncture of which 



222 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VI. 

of characters,* wheel-ciphers, 11 key-ciphers, x word-ciphers/ &c. 
There are three properties required in ciphers; viz., 1. that 
they be easy to write and read ; 2. that they be trusty and 
undecipherable ; and 3. if possible, clear of suspicion. For 
if a letter should come into the hands of such as have a 
power over the writer or receiver, though the cipher itself 
be trusty and impossible to decipher, it is still subject to ex- 
amination and question, unless there be no room to suspect 
or examine it. 

There is a new and useful invention to elude the examina- 
tion of a cipher; viz., to have two alphabets, the one of 
significant, and the other of non-significant letters ; and 
folding up two writings together, the one conveying the 
secret, whilst the other is such as the writer might probably 
send without danger. In case of a strict examination about 
the cipher, the bearer is to produce the non-significant 
alphabet for the true, and the true for the non-significant ; 
by which means the examiner would fall upon the outward 
writing, and finding it probable, suspect nothing of the 
inner. 2 

But to prevent all suspicion, we shall here annex a cipher 
of our own, that we devised at Paris in our youth, and which 
has the highest perfection of a cipher — that of signifying 

destroys the sense to an ordinary observer, which the first letters and 
words are intended to convey. Ed. 

1 Abbreviated writing, or short-hand. Ed. 

u This is a kind of dial, on which are drawn the circumferences of two 
concentric circles, bordered by the letters of the alphabet. Each letter 
being marked with a sign, we know to what letter of the exterior circle, 
each of the interior corresponds in relation to its rank in the alphabet. 
For example, suppose that it had been previously determined that the 
letter f should represent a, g 6, and h c, the receiver of the missive 
should turn the interior circle of the dial round until the a in this circle 
pointed to / in the exterior, and then in the place of the letters in the 
note he had received, he would read those which corresponded to them 
in the interior circle. Ed. 

x The key-ciphers are those figures which explain the latent sense 
of the letter, and are either conveyed with it, or previously concerted by 
those who are parties to the communication. Ed. 

y Verbal ciphers are those which represent entire words. Ed. 

z The publishing of this secret frustrates its intention ; ior the ex- 
aminer, though he should find the outward letter probable, would 
doubtless, when thus advertised, examine the inner, notwithstanding its 
alphabet were delivered to him for non-significants. Shaw. 



CHAP. I.] WRITING BY CIPHER EXPLAINED. 



223 



omnia per omnia (anything by everything),* provided only 
the matter included be live times less than that which 
includes it, without any other condition or limitation. The 
invention is this : first let all the letters of the alphabet be 
resolved into two only, by repetition and transposition ; for 
a transposition of two letters through five places, or different 
arrangements, will denote two and thirty differences, and 
consequently fewer, or four and twenty, the number of letters 
in our alphabet, as in the following example. 



A BILITERAL ALPHABET. 



Consisting only of a and b changed through Jive 

all the letters of the common alphabet. 



A 
B 
C 
D 
E 
F 
G 
H 



aaaaa 
aaaab 
aaaba 
aaabb 
aabaa 
aabab 
aabba 
aabbb 



I 
K 
L 
M 

N 

O 
P 

Q 



abaaa 
abaab 
ababa 

ababb 
abbaa 
abbab 
abbba 
abbbb 



R 

S 

T 

V 

W 

X 

Y 

Z 



so as to represent 

= baaaa 

= baaab 

= baaba 

= baabb 

= babaa 

= babab 

= babba 

= babbb 



Thus, in order to write an A, you write Rve «'s, or aaaaa ; 
and to write a B, you write four as and one b, or aaaab; and 
so of the rest. 

And here, by the way, we gain no small advantage, as 
this contrivance shows a method of expressing and signifying 
one's mind to any distance, by objects that are either visible 
or audible — provided only the objects are but capable of two 
differences, as bells, speaking-trumpets, fireworks, cannon, &c. 
But for writing, let the included letter be resolved into this 
biliteral alphabet ; suppose that letter were the word fly, it 
is thus resolved : 

FLY 
aabab ababa babba. 

Let there be also at hand two other common alphabets, 
differing only from each other in the make of their letters ; 
so that, as well the capital as the small be differently shaped 
or cut at every one's discretion : as thus, for example, in 
Koman and Italic ; each Boman letter constantly represent- 
ing A, and each Italic letter B. 

a For this cipher is practicable in all things that are capable oi two 
differences. 



224 



ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 



[BOOK VI. 



THE FIE ST, OR EOMAN ALPHABET. 



A, 


a 


H, 


h 


o, 





V, 


V 


B, 


b 


I, 


i 


p, 


P 


u, 


U 


c, 


c ' 


K, 


k 


Q, 


q 


w, 


w 


B, 


d 


L, 


1 


B, 


r 


x, 


^.i. 


E, 


e 


M, 


m 


s, 


s 


Ti 


y 


B, 


f 


N, 


n 


T, 


t 


z, 


z 


G, 


g 















All the letters of this Eoman alphabet are read or deci- 
phered; by translating them into the letter A only* 



THE SECOND, OR ITALIC ALPHABET. 



A, a 


H, h 


0, 





V, v 


B, b 


/, i 


P, 


p 


zr, u 


C, c 


K, h 


Q, 


2 


W, w 


D, d 


L, I 


R, 


r 


X, x 


E, e 


M in 


s, 


s 


T, V 


F, f 


N, n 


T, 


t 


Z, z 


G, g 











All the letters of this Italic alphabet are read by trans- 
lating them into the letter B only. 

Now adjust or fit any external double-faced writing, letter 
by letter, to the internal writing, first made biliterate ; and 
afterwards write it down for the letter or epistle to be sent. 
Suppose the external writing were, " Stay till I come to you," 
and the internal one were, " Fly;" then, as we saw above, the 
word " Fly," resolved by means of the biliteral alphabet, is 

FLY 

aabab ababa babba 

whereof I fit, letter by letter, the words " Stay till I come 
to you," observing the use of my two alphabets of differently 
shaped letters, thus : 

aabab ababa babba 
Stay t iH co me to you. 

Having now adjusted my writing according to all my alpha- 
bets, I send it to my correspondent, who reads the secret 
meaning by translating the Roman letters into as, and the 
Italic ones into 6's, according to the Roman and Italic alpha- 
bets, and comparing each combination of five of them with 
the biliteral alphabets 

b Those who desire a fuller explanation may consult Bishop Wilkins's 
41 Secret and Swift Messenger," or rather Mr. Falconer's " Crypto- 
menysis Patefacta, or Art ot Secret Information disclosed without a 



CHAP. I.] CIPHER EXEMPLIFIED. 225 

"We herewith annex a fuller example of the cipher of 
writing " omnia per omnia/' viz., an interior letter once sent 
by the Ephores of Sparta in a scytale or round ciphered 
staff:— 

" Perditoe res. Minidarus cecidit. Milites esiiriunt, neqne 
hinc nos extricare, neqne hie diutius manere possunius." 

The exterior letter in which the above is involved is 
taken from the first epistle of Cicero. We adjoin it: — 

a Ego omni officio ac potius pietate erga te, caeteris satis- 
facio omnibus ; milii ipse numquam satisfacio. Tanta est 
enim magnitudo tuorum erga me meritorum, ut quoniam tu 
nisi perfecta re, de me non conquiesti. Ego quia non idem 
tu tua causa emtio, vitam mihi esse acerbam putem. In 
causa hoec sunt ; Ammonius regis legatus aperte pecunia non 
oppugnat. Res agitur per eosdem creditores per quos, cum 
tu aderas, agebatur regis causa, si qui sunt, qui velint qui 
pauci sunt, omnes ad Pompeium rem deferri volunt. Sena- 
tus religionis calumniam, non religion e, sed malevolent ia, et 
illius regiae largitionis invidia, comprobat, <fcc." 

The doctrine of ciphers has introduced another, relative to 
it, viz., the art of deciphering without the alphabet of the 
cipher, or knowing the rules whereby it was formed. This 
indeed is a work of labour and ingenuity, devoted, as well as 
the former, to the secret service of princes. Yet by a dili- 
gent precaution it may be rendered useless, though, as matters 
now stand, it is highly serviceable : for if the ciphers in use 
were good and trusty, several of them would absolutely elude 
the labour of the decipherer, and yet remain commodious 
enough, so as to be readily written and read. But through the 
ignorance and unskilfulness of secretaries and clerks in the 
courts of princes, the most important affairs are generally 
committed to weak and treacherous ciphers. — And thus 
much for the organ of speech. 

Key." The trustiness of this cipher depends upon a dexterous use of 
two hands, or two different kinds of letters, in the same writing, which 
the skilful decipherer, being thus advertised of, will be quicksighted 
enough to discern, and consequently be able to decipher, though a 
foundation seems here laid tor several other ciphers, that perhaps could 
neither be suspected nor deciphered. Shaw. 

c The art of ciphering is doubtless capable of great improvement. It 
is said that King Charles I. had a cipher consisting only of a straight 
line differently inclined ; and there are ways of ciphering by the mere 

2 q 



228 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VI. 



CHAPTER II. 

Method of Speech includes a wide Part of Tradition. Styled the 
Wisdom of Delivery. Various kinds of Methods enumerated. Their 
respective Merits. 

The doctrine concerning the method of speech has been 
usually treated as a part of logic ; it has also found a place 
in rhetoric, under the name of disposition; but the placing 
of it in the train of other arts has introduced a neglect of 
many useful things relating to it. We, therefore, think 
proper to advance a substantial and capital doctrine of 
method, under the general name of traditive prudence. But 
as the kinds of method are various, we shall rather enumerate 
than divide them ; but for one only method, and perpetually 
splitting and subdividing, it scarce need be mentioned, as 
being no more than a light cloud of doctrine that soon blows 
over, though it also proves destructive to the sciences, be- 
cause the observers thereof, when they wrest things by the 
laws of their method, and either omit all that do not justly 
fall under their divisions, or bend them contrary to their 
own nature, squeeze, as it were, the grain out of the sciences, 
and grasp nothing but the chaff, — whence this kind of 
method produces empty compendiums, and loses the solid 
substance of the sciences. a 

punctuation of a letter, whilst the words of the letter shall be non-signi- 
ficants, or sense, that leave no room for suspicion. It may also be worth 
considering, whether the art of deciphering could not be applied to 
languages, so as to translate, for instance, a Hebrew book without 
understanding Hebrew. See Morhof, De variis Scripturae Modis, 
"Polyhist." torn. i. lib. iv. cap. 2. and Mr. Falconer's " Cryptomenysis 
Patefacta." Shaiv. 

a The design of Ramus, whose method of Dichotomies is here censured, 
was to reduce all divisions and subdivisions to two members, with a view to 
obtain a basis for the construction of dilemmas and disjunctive syllogisms. 
We are never certain that these species of reasoning are legitimate, except 
when the divisions out of which they rise are exact : and the only test of 
this accuracy is to be sought in a dichotomous contradictory division, 
where the supposition of one member necessarily leads to the exclusion 
of the other. This method oi exhausting a subject by an analytic ex- 
haustion of its parts, which he mainly derived from Plato, has its proper 
sphere in logic ; and though condemned in the text, was employed by 
Bacon in many of his prerogative instances. The error of Ramus consisted 
in taking only a part for the whole oi logic, and applying what is strictly 
applicable to subjects of a peculiar nature, to the whole range ot inference. 



CHAP. II.] 3IETH0D DOCTRINAL AXD INITIATIVE. 227 

Let the first difference of method be. therefore, betwixt 
the doctrinal and initiative. By this we do not mean that 
the initiative method should treat only of the entrance into 
the sciences, and the other their entire doctrine; but bor- 
rowing the word from religion, we call that method initia- 
tive which opens and reveals the mysteries of the sciences; 
so that as the doctrinal method teaches, the initiative method 
should intimate, the doctrinal method requiring a belief of 
what is delivered, but the initiative rather that it should be 
examined. The one deals out the sciences to vulgar learners, 
the other as to the children of wisdom, — the one having for 
its end the use of the sciences as they now stand, and the 
other their progress and farther advancement. But this 
latter method seems deserted; for the sciences have hitherto 
been delivered as if both the teacher and the learner desired 
to receive errors by consent, — the teacher pursuing that 
method which procures the greatest belief to his doctrine, 
not that which most commodiously submits it to examina- 
tion, whilst the learner desires present satisfaction without 
waiting for a just inquiry, as if more concerned not to doubt 
than not to mistake. Hence the master, through desire of 
glory, never exposes the weakness of his own science, and 
the scholar, through his aversion to labour, tries not his own 
strength; whereas knowledge, which is delivered to others 
as a web to be further wove, should if possible be introduced 
into the mind of another in the manner it was first pro- 
cured; and this may be done in knowledge acquired by 

It is evident, however, that the dichotonious process can only be employed 
in the investigation of subjects which admit of a twofold contradictory- 
division, and that where the primitive elements are composed of four or 
tive distinct members, the method is totally inapplicable. Its use, there- 
fore, ought to be attended with the greatest caution, as the Eamist can 
hardly be certain that the twofold division, in many cases, is not 
more apparent than real, and that a further analysis would not neces- 
sitate a multiform classification. For want of this foresight, Ramus, 
with all his subtilty, falls into inconceivable errors, and a great many 
of Bacon's exemplifications of his method in the crucial instance are 
direct paralogisms. Milton framed a logic on the model of Ramus a 
method, seduced rather by the bold antagonism of the latter against 
Aristotle, than by its philosophic justness. Both the original and the 
copy are now forgotten, and Ramus is committed to the judgment of 
posterity rather on his absurdities than his merits. See Hooker, i. 6, 
with Keble's note. Ed. 

q2 



228 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VI. 

induction ; but for that anticipated and hasty knowledge we 
have at present it is not easy for the possessor to say by 
what road he came at it. Yet in a greater or less degree 
any one might review his knowledge, trace back the steps of 
his own thoughts, consent afresh, and thus transplant his 
knowledge into the mind of another as it grew up in his 
own. For it is in arts as in trees, — if a tree were to be used, 
no matter for the root, but if it were to be transplanted, it 
is a surer way to take the root than the slips. So the trans- 
plantation now practised of the sciences makes a great show, 
as it were, of branches, that without the roots may be fit 
indeed for the builder, but not for the planter. He who 
would promote the growth of the sciences should be less 
solicitous about the trunk or body of them, and bend his care 
to preserve the roots, and draw them out with some little 
earth about them. Of this kind of transplantation there 
is some resemblance in the method of mathematicians ; b but 
in general we do not see that it is either used or inquired 
after; we therefore place it among the deficiencies, under 
the name of the traditive lamp, or a method for posterity. 

There is another difference of method, bearing some rela- 
tion to the former intention, though in reality almost op- 
posite to it ; both of them have this in common, that they 
separate the vulgar audience from the select ; but herein they 
are opposite, that the former introduces a more open and the 
other a more secret way of instruction than the common; 
hence let them be distinguished, by terming the former plain 
or open, and the latter the learned or concealed method, thus 
transferring to the manner of delivery the difference made 
use of by the ancients, especially in publishing their books. 
This concealed or enigmatical method was itself also em- 
ployed by the ancients with prudence and judgment, but is 
of late dishonoured by many, who use it as a false light to 
set off their counterfeit wares. The design of it seems to 

b To this purpose see Wolfius's "Brevis Commentatio de Methodo 
Mathematical prefixed to his "Elementa Matheseos Universal;" as 
also his "Logics and Metaphysics." Shaw. 

c Perhaps M. Tschirnhaus's " Medicina Mentis, sive Tentamen 
genuinse Logicse, in qua disseritur de Methodo detegendi incognitas 
Veritates," may pave the way for supplying this desideratum ; proceed- 
ing as it does upon a mathematical and algebraical foundation, to raise 
a method of discovering unknown truths. Shaw. 



i 



CHAP. II.] METHOD APHORISTIC AND REGULAR. 229 

have been, by the veil of tradition to keep the vulgar from 
the secrets of sciences, and to admit only such as had, by the 
help of a master, attained to the interpretation ot dark say- 
ings, or were able, by the strength of their own genius, to 
enter within the veil. 

The next difference of method is of great moment with 
regard to the sciences, as these are delivered either in the 
way of aphorism or methodically. It highly deserves to be 
noted, that the general custom is, for men to raise as it were 
a formal and solemn art from a few axioms and observations 
upon any subject, swelling it out with their own witty in- 
ventions, illustrating it by examples, and binding the whole 
up into method. But that other way of delivery by apho- 
risms has numerous advantages over the methodical. And 
first, it gives us a proof of the author's abilities, and shows 
whether he hath entered deep into his subject or not. Apho- 
risms are ridiculous things, unless wrought from the central 
parts of the sciences; and here all illustration, excursion, 
variety of examples, deduction, connection, and particular 
description, is cut off, so that nothing besides an ample stock 
of observations is left for the matter of aphorisms. And, 
therefore, no person is equal to the forming of aphorisms, 
nor would ever think of them, if he did not find himself 
copiously and solidly instructed for writing upon a subject. 
But in methods so great a power have order, connection, and 
choice, — 

" Tantum series juncturaque pollet ; 

Tan turn de medio sumptis accedit honoris," d — 

that methodical productions sometimes make a show of I 
know not what specious art, which, if they were taken to 
pieces, separated, and undressed, would fall back again almost 
to nothing. Secondly, a methodical delivery has the power 
of enforcing belief and consent, but directs not much to prac- 
tical indications, as carrying with it a kind of demonstration 
in circle, where the parts mutually enlighten each other, and 
so gratifies the imagination the more ; but as actions lie scat- 
tered in common life, scattered instructions suit them the 
best. Lastly, as aphorisms exhibit only certain scraps and 
fragments of the sciences, they carry with them an invitation 

d Hor. Art. Poet. 242. 



230 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VI 



to others for adding and lending their assistance, whereas 
methods dress up the sciences into bodies, and make men 
imagine they have them complete. 

There is a farther difference of method, and that too very 
considerable ; for as the sciences are delivered either by 
assertions with their proofs, or by questions with their 
answers, if the latter method be pursued too far, it retards. 
the advancement of the sciences no less than it would the 
march of an army, to be sitting down against every little fort 
in the way; whereas, if the better of the battle be gained, 
and the fortune of the war steadily pursued, such lesser 
places will surrender of themselves, though it must be allowed 
unsafe to leave any large and fortified place at the back of 
the army. In the same manner confutations are to be 
avoided or sparingly used in delivering the sciences, so as only 
to conquer the greater prejudices and prepossessions of the 
mind, without provoking and engaging the lesser doubts and 
scruples. 

Another difference of method lies in suiting it to the 
subject; for mathematics, the most abstract and simple of 
the sciences, is delivered one way, and politics, the more 
compound and perplexed, another. For an uniform method 
cannot be commodiously observed in a variety of matter. 
And as we approve of particular topics for invention, so 
we must in some measure allow of particular methods of 
delivery. 

There is another difference of method to be used with 
judgment in delivering the sciences, and this is governed by 
the informations and anticipations of the science to be deli- 
vered that are before infused and impressed upon the mind 
of the learner. For that science which comes as an entire 
stranger to the mind is to be delivered one way, and that 
which is familiarized by opinions already imbibed and re- 
ceived another. And therefore, Aristotle, when he thought 
to chastise, really commended Democritus, in saying, " If we 
would dispute in earnest, and not hunt after comparisons,' ' 
&c. ; as if he would tax Democritus with being too full of 
comparisons; whereas they whose instructions are already 
grounded in popular opinion have nothing left them but to 
dispute and prove, whilst others have a double task whose 
doctrines transcend the vulgar opinions ; viz., first to render 



CHAP. II.] METHOD GENERAL AND PARTICULAR. 231 

what they deliver intelligible, and then to prove it ; whence 
they must of necessity have recourse to simile and metaphor, 
the better to enter the human capacity. e Hence we find in 
the more ignorant ages, when learning was in its infancy, 
and those conceptions which are now trite and vulgar were 
new and unheard of, everything was full of parables and 
similitudes, otherwise the things then proposed would either 
have been passed over without due notice and attention, or 
else have been rejected as paradoxes. For it is a rule in the 
doctrine of delivery, that every science which comports not 
with anticipations and prejudices must seek the assistance of 
similes and allusions. And thus much for the different 
kinds of methods, which have not hitherto been observed; 
but for the others, as the analytic, sy static, diseretic, cryptic, 
homeric, &c, they are already justly discovered and ranged. 

Method has two parts, one regarding the disposition of a 
whole work or the subject of a book, and the other the limi- 
tation of propositions. For architecture not only regards 
the fabric of the whole building, but also the figure of the 
columns, arches, &c. ; for method is as it were the architec- 
ture of the sciences. And herein Ramus has deserved better, 
by reviving the ancient rules of method/ than by obtruding 
his own dichotomies. But I know not by what fatality it 
happens that, as the poets often feign, the most precious 
things have the most pernicious keepers. Doubtless the 
endeavours of Ramus about the reduction of propositions 
threw him upon his epitomes, and the flats and shallows of 
the sciences : for it must be a fortunate and well-directed 
genius that shall attempt to make the axioms of the sciences 
convertible, and not at the same time render them circular, 
that is, keep them from returning into themselves.? And 
yet the attempt of Ramus in this way has not been useless. 

e The reader will bear in mind that this was the situation of the 
author in his time, and on that account dispense with his figurative 
style, though it may not be altogether so necessary at present, when 
we are accustomed to the freest range of philosophical inquiry. Ed. 

f KdOoXov irpwrov, Kara Travrhc,, KaQ' avrb, k.t.X. ; relation to the 
first principle, relation to all, and relation to one's self. 

8 The axioms in the text must not be understood as applying to the 
mathematical sciences, which being, as Condillac observes, purely ideal, 
exact in their conversion nothing more than a detailed exposition of the 
properties we have already included in their definition ; but of the 



232 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. [EOOK VI. 

There are still two other limitations of propositions, be- 
sides that for making them convertible, — the one for extend- 
ing and the other for producing them. For if it be just that 
the sciences have two other dimensions, besides depth, viz. 
length and breadth, their depth bearing relation to their 
truth and reality, as these are what constitute their solidity; 
their breadth may be computed from one science to another, 
and their length from the highest degree to the lowest in 
the same science, — the one comprehends the ends and true 
boundaries of the sciences, whence propositions may be 
treated distinctly, and not promiscuously, and all repetition, 
excursion, and confusion avoided; the other prescribes a rule 
how far and to what particular degree the propositions of 
the sciences are to be reduced. But no doubt something 
must here be left to practice and experience; for men ought 
ot avoid the extreme of Antoninus Pius, and not mince 
cumin-seed in the sciences, nor multiply divisions to the 
utmost. And it is here well worth the inquiry, how far we 
should check ourselves in this respect; for we see that too 
extensive generals, unless they be reduced, afford little infor- 
mation, but rather expose the sciences to the ridicule of 
practical men, as being no more fitted for practice than a 
general map of the world to show the road from London to 
York. The best rules may well be compared to a metalline 
speculum, which represents the images of things, but not 
before it is polished; for so rules and precepts are useful 
after having undergone the file of experience. But if these 
rules could be made exact and clear from the first, it were 

objective sciences, where, since our knowledge of the subject is generally 
so imperfect as to render any direct definition uncertain, we are obliged to 
involve ourselves in a chain of reasoning to prove that the interchange- 
able attribute can be affirmed of the subject in its whole extent, and 
that both possess no qualities which are not convertible with each other. 
In establishing this reciprocal accordance of parts, it frequently happens 
that, having to connect a series of propositions in a chain of mutual 
dependence on each other, the first being proved by the second and the 
second by the third, &c, we arrive at and rest the whole proof upon a 
conclusion which is nothing else than the enunciation of the very pro- 
position which we are labouring to establish, instead of grounding the 
argument upon some universally admitted principle or well-ascertained 
fact. This fallacy logicians term a vicious circle, and is the error to 
which Bacon alludes in the text. Ed, 



CHAP. III.] VALUE OF RHETORIC, AND ITS FUNCTIONS. 233 

better, because they would then stand in less need of expe- 
rience. 

We must not omit that some men, rather ostentatious 
than learned, have laboured about a certain method not de- 
serving the name of a true method, as being rather a kind 
of imposture, which may nevertheless be acceptable to some 
busy minds. This art so scatters the drops of the sciences, 
that any pretender may misapply it for ostentation, with 
some appearance of learning. Such was the art of Lully, and 
such the typocosmia cultivated by some ; for these are only 
a collection of terms of art heaped together, to the end that 
those who have them in readiness may seem to understand 
the arts whereto the terms belong. Collections of this kind 
are like a piece-broker's shop, where there are many slips, 
but nothing of great value. And thus much for the science 
which we call traditive prudence. 11 



CHAPTER III. 

The Grounds and Functions of Rhetoric. Three Appendices which 
belong only to the Preparatory Part, viz., the Colours of Good and 
Evil, both simple and composed ; the Antithesis of Things (the pro 
and con. of General Questions) ; the Minor Forms of Speech (the 
Elaboration of Exordiums, Perorations, and Leading Arguments). 

We next proceed to the doctrine of ornament in speech, 
called by the name of rhetoric or oratory. This in itself is 
certainly an excellent science, and has been laudably culti- 

h Concio, who preceded Bacon, anticipates, in his treatise " De 
Methodo," many of the fundamental principles of the inductive logi- 
cians, and discriminates many branches of analysis, which they confound. 
Descartes, in his book on the same subject, has endeavoured to reduce 
the whole business of method to four rules, which, however, are found in 
the precepts of Aristotle. Johan. Beyer undertook to write upon this 
subject, in his " Filum Labyrinthi," according to the design of Bacon, 
but appears not to have understood the author, and has rather obscured 
his doctrine than improved it. M. Tschirnhaus, however, has treated 
the subject more suitably to its merit, in his '* Medicina Mentis," men- 
tioned above, in the note to § 2. A great variety of methods have been 
advanced by different authors, an ample catalogue of whom may be 
found in Morhof's "Polyhist." torn. i. lib. ii. cap. 7, " De Methodis 
Variis." Ed. 



234 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VI. 

vated by writers. But to form a just estimate, eloquence 
is certainly inferior to wisdom. The great difference between 
them appears in the words of God to Moses upon his reiasing, 
for want of elocution, the charge assigned him : " Aaron 
shall be thy speaker, and thou shalt be to him as God." a But 
for advantage and popular esteem, wisdom gives place to 
eloquence. " The wise in heart shall be called prudent, but 
the sweet of tongue shall find greater things," says Solomon : b 
clearly intimating that wisdom procures a name and admira- 
tion, but that eloquence is of greater efficacy in business and 
civil life. And for the cultivation of this art, the emulation 
betwixt Aristotle and the rhetoricians of his time, the 
earnest study of Cicero, his long practice and utmost endea- 
vour every way to dignify oratory, hath made these authors 
even exceed themselves in their books upon the subject. 
Again, the great examples of eloquence found in the orations 
of Demosthenes and Cicero, added to the perfection and 
exactness of their precepts, have doubled its advancement. 
And therefore the deficiencies we find in it rather turn upon 
certain collections belonging to its train, than upon the 
doctrine and use of the art itself. 

But in our manner to open and stir the earth a little 
about the roots of this science, certainly rhetoric is sub- 
servient to the imagination, as logic is to the understanding. 
And if the thing be well considered, the office and use of 
this art is but to apply and recommend the dictates of reason 
to the imagination, in order to excite the affections and will. 
For the administration of reason is disturbed three ways ; 
viz., 1. either by the ensnaring of sophistry, which belongs to 
logic ; 2. the delusion of words, which belongs to rhetoric ; 
or 3. by the violence of the affections, which belongs to 
ethics. For as in transacting business with others, men are 
commonly over-reached, or drawn from their own purposes 
either by cunning, importunity, or vehemence ; so in the in- 
ward business we transact with ourselves, we are either, 
1. undermined by the fallacy of arguments; 2. disquieted and 
solicited by the assiduity of impressions and observations ; or 
3. shaken and carried away by the violence of the passions. 
Nor is the state of human nature so unequal, that these arts 

a Exodus iv. 14, 15, 16. b Prov. i. 21. 



CHAP. III.] HOW ELOQUENCE AIDS REASON. 235 

and faculties should have power to disturb the reason, and 
none to confirm and strengthen it ; for they do this in a 
much greater degree. The end of logic is to teach the form 
of arguments for defending, and not for ensnaring, the under- 
standing. The end of ethics is so to compose the affections, 
that they may co-operate with reason, and not insult it. 
And lastly, the end of rhetoric is to fill the imagination with 
such observations and images as may assist reason, and not 
overthrow it. For the abuses of an art come in obliquely 
only, and not for practice, but caution. It was therefore 
great iujustice in Plato, though it proceeded from a just con- 
tempt of the rhetoricians of his time, to place rhetoric among 
the voluptuary arts, c and resemble it to cookery, which cor- 
rupted wholesome meats, and, by variety of sauces, made 
unwholesome ones more palatable. For speech is, doubtless, 
more employed to adorn virtue than to colour vice. This 
faculty is always ready, for every man speaks more virtuously 
than he either thinks or acts. And it is excellently observed 
by Thucydides, that something of this kind was usually 
objected to Cleon ; tl who, as he always defended the worst 
side of a cause, was ever inveighing against eloquence and 
the grace of speech, well knowing that no man could speak 
gracefully upon a base subject, though every man easily 
might upon an honourable one : for Plato elegantly observed, 
though the expression is now grown trite, that if virtue 
could be beheld, she would have great admirers. e But 
rhetoric, by plainly painting virtue and goodness, renders 
them, as it were, conspicuous ; for as they cannot be seen by 
the corporeal eye, the next degree is to have them set before 
us as lively as possible by the ornament of words and the 
strength of imagination. The Stoics, therefore, were de- 
servedly ridiculed by Cicero for endeavouring to inculcate 
virtue upon the mind by short and subtile sentences and 
conclusions/ which have little or no relation to the imagina- 
tion and the will. 

Again, if the affections were orderly and obedient to 
reason, there would be no great use of persuasion and in- 
sinuation to gain access to the mind ; it would then be 

c As it was in Bacon to place painting and music in the same category. 
d B. iii. 42. e Phedias. 

f Orator, ii. 38 ; Tusc. Disp. ii. 18, 42. 



236 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VI. 

sufficient that tilings themselves were nakedly and simply 
proposed and proved ; but, on the contrary, the affections 
revolt so often, and raise such disturbances and seditions — 

" Video meliora, proboque ; 

Deteriora sequor,"? — 

that reason would perfectly be led captive, did not the per- 
suasion of eloquence win over the imagination from the side 
of the passions, and promote an alliance betwixt it and 
reason against the affections. For we must observe that the 
affections themselves always aim at an apparent good, and in 
this respect have something common with reason. But here 
lies the difference, that the affections principally regard a 
present good, whilst reason, seeing far before it, chooses also 
the future and capital good. And therefore, as present things 
strike the imagination strongest, reason is generally subdued ; 
but when eloquence and the power of persuasion raise up 
remote and future objects, and set them to view as if they 
were present ; then imagination goes over to the side oi 
reason, and renders it victorious. 

Hence we conclude, that rhetoric can no more be ac- 
cused of colouring the worst part, than logic of teaching- 
sophistry. For we know that the doctrines of contraries are 
the same, though their use be opposite ; and logic does not 
only differ from rhetoric, according to the vulgar notion, as 
the first is like the hand clenched, and the other like the 
hand open ; but much more in this, that logic considers 
reason in its natural state, and rhetoric as it stands in vulgar 
opinion ; whence Aristotle prudently places rhetoric be- 
tween logic and ethics, along with politics, as partaking of 
them both. For the proofs and demonstrations of logic are 
common to all mankind, but the proof and persuasion of 
rhetoric must be varied according to the audience, like a 
musician suiting himself to different ears. 

" Orpheus in sylvis, inter Delphinas Arion." h 

And this application and variation of speech should, if we 
desire its perfection, extend so far, that if the same things 
were to be delivered to different persons, yet a different set 
of words should be used to each. 1 Though it is certain that 

e Ovid, Metam. yii. 20. h Virg. Eel. viii. 56. 

1 For one of the most perfect exemplifications of this rule, see Lord 



CHAP. III.] RHETORICAL SOPHISMS NEEDED. 237 

tlie greatest orators, generally, have not this political and 
sociable eloquence in private discourse ; for whilst they 
endeavour at ornament and elegant forms of speech, they 
fall not upon that ready application and familiar style of dis- 
course which they might with more advantage use to parti- 
culars. And it were certainly proper to begin a new inquiry 
into this subject ; we therefore place it among the deficiencies 
under the title of prudential conversation, k which the more 
attentively a man considers, the higher value he will set 
upon it j but whether this be placed under rhetoric or politics 
is of no great significance. 

We have already observed that the desiderata in this art 
are rather appendages than parts of the art itself ; and all of 
them belong to the repository thereof, for the furnishing of 
speech and invention. To proceed in this view ; first, we 
find no writer that hath carefully followed the prudent 
example of Aristotle, who began to collect popular marks 
or colours of apparent good and evil, as well simple as com- 
parative. 1 These, in reality, are but rhetorical sophisms, 
though of excellent use, especially in business and private 
discourse. But the labour of Aristotle about these colours 
has three defects ; for 1. though they are numerous, he 
recites but few ; 2. he has not annexed their redargutions ; 
and 3. he seems not to have understood their full use : for 
they serve as well to affect and move as to demonstrate. 
There are many forms of speech which, though significative 
of the same things, yet affect men differently ; as a sharp 
instrument penetrates more than a blunt one, supposing both 
of them urged with equal force. There is nobody but would 
be more affected by hearing this expression, How your 
enemies will triumph upon this : 

" Hoc Ithacus velit, et magno mercentur Atridse/' m 
than if it were simply said, This will injure your affairs : 
therefore these stings and goads of speech are not to be 

Brougham's discourse to the Glasgow University and to the Manchester 
Mechanics' Institution. Ed. 

k The foundations for this are, in some measure, laid by the learned 
Morhof in the sketch of his " Homiletice Erudita." See " Polyhistor," 
torn. i. lib. i. cap. 25. See also Jo. Andr. Bosii "De Prudentia et 
Eloquentia Civili comparanda," ed. Jense, 1698 ; and " Prudentia 
Consultatoria in Usum Auditorii Thomasiani," ed. Halae Magdeburg, 
1721. Ed. I PJietor. ii. 3-8. m JEneid, ii. 104. 



238 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VI. 

neglected. And since we propose this as a desideratum, we 
will, after our manner, give a sketch of it, in the way of 
examples ; for precepts will not so well illustrate the thing. 
In deliberatives, we inquire what is good, what evil ; and of 
good, which is the greater, and of evil, which the less. 
Whence the persuader's task is to make things appear good 
or evil, and that in a higher or lower degree ; which may be 
performed by true and solid reasons, or represented by colours, 
popular glosses, and circumstances of such force as to sway an 
ordinary judgment ; or even a wise man that does not fully 
and considerately attend to the subject. But besides this 
power to alter the nature of the subject in appearance, and 
so lead to error, they are of use to quicken and strengthen 
such opinions and persuasions as are true ; for reasons nakedly 
delivered, and always after one manner, enter but heavily, 
especially with delicate minds ; whereas, when varied and 
enlivened by proper forms and insinuations, they cause a 
stronger apprehension, and often suddenly win the mind to a 
resolution. Lastly, to make a true and safe judgment, 
nothing can be of greater use and preservation to the mind 
than the discovery and reprehension of these colours, show- 
ing in w T hat cases they hold and in what not ; which cannot 
be done without a comprehensive knowledge of things; but 
when performed, it clears the judgment, and makes it less apt 
to slip into error, 11 

Sophism I. — What men praise and celebrate, is good ; ivhat they dispraise 

and censure, evil. 

This sophism deceives four ways ; viz., either through 
ignorance, deceit, party, or the natural disposition of the 
praiser or dispraiser. 1. Through ignorance ; for what 
signifies the judgment of the rabble in distinguishing good 
and evil ? Phocion took it right, who, being applauded by 
the multitude, asked, What he had done amiss 1° 2. Through 

n This paragraph is taken from the fragment of the Colours of Good 
and Evil, usually printed as an appendix to the author's essays. That 
fragment was reconsidered, better digested, and finished by the author, 
in order to fit it for this place, in the De Augmentis Scientiarum ; to 
which himself assigned it in the Latin edition. The reason oi its being 
called a fragment was, that the author had made a large collection of 
such kind of sophisms in his youth ; but could only find time in his 
riper years, to add the fallacies and confutations of the following 
twelve. Shaw. ° Plutarch. 



CHAP. III.] RHETORICAL SOPHISMS EXEMPLIFIED. 239 

deceit ; for those who praise or dispraise commonly have 
their own views in it, and speak not their real sentiments. 

" Laudat venales, qui vult extrudere, merces."? 
u It is faulty, it is faulty, says the buyer; but when he is gone, 
he congratulates himself upon the bargain." Q 3. Through 
party ; for men immoderately extol those of their own and 
depress those of the opposite party. 4. Through disposition 
or temper ; for some men are naturally formed servile and 
fawning, and others captious and morose ; so that when 
such persons praise or dispraise, they do but gratify their 
humour, without much regard to truth. 

II. — What is commended, even by an enemy, is a great good; but what is 
censured, even by a friend, a great evil. 

The fallacy seems to lie here, that it is easily believed the 
force of truth extorts from us what we speak against our 
inclination. 

This colour deceives through the subtilty both of friends 
and enemies. For praises of enemies are not always against 
their will, nor forced from them by truth; but they choose 
to bestow them where they may create envy or danger to 
their adversary. Hence the foolish conceit was current 
among the Greeks, that he who was praised by another with 
malicious intent, never failed to have his nose disfigured with 
a pustule. Again this colour deceives, because enemies some- 
times use praises like prefaces, that they may the more freely 
calumniate afterwards. On the other side, it deceives by the 
craft of friends, who also sometimes acknowledge our faults, 
and speak of them not as compelled thereto by any force of 
truth, but touch only such as may do little hurt, and make 
us, in everything else, the best men in the world. And 
lastly, it deceives, because friends also use their reproofs, as 
enemies do their commendations, by way of preface, that 
they may afterwards launch out more fully in our praises. 

III. — To be deprived of a good, is an evil ; and to be deprived of an evil, 

a good. 

This colour deceives two ways ; viz., either by the com- 
parison of good and evil, or by the succession of good to 
good, or evil to evil. 1. By comparison : thus if it were 
good for mankind to be deprived of acorns, it follows not 

p Hor. Epist. ii. 11. <* Prov. xx. 



240 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VI. 

that such food was bad, bub that acorns were good, though 
bread be better. Nor, if it were an evil for the people of 
Sicily to be deprived of Dionysius the Elder, does it follow 
that the same Dionysius was a good prince, but that he was 
less evil than Dionysius the Younger. 2. By succession : for 
the privation of a good does not always give place to an evil, 
but sometimes to a greater good, — as when the blossom falls, 
the fruit succeeds. Nor does the privation of an evil always 
give place to a good, but sometimes to a greater evil ; for Milo, 
by the death of his enemy Clodius, lost a fair harvest of glory. 

IV. — What approaches to good, is good ; and what recedes from good, 

is evil. 

It is almost universal, that things agreeing in nature 
agree also in place, and that things disagreeing in nature 
differ as widely in situation ; for all things have an appetite 
of associating with what is agreeable, and of repelling what 
is disagreeable to them. 

This colour deceives three ways ; viz., by depriving, ob- 
scuring, and protecting. 1. By depriving; for the largest 
things, and most excellent in their kind, attract all they can 
to themselves, and leave what is next them destitute; thus 
the underwood growing near a large tree is the poorest wood 
of the field, because the tree deprives it of sap and nourish- 
ment, — whence it was well said, that the servants of the 
rich are the greatest slaves; 1 and it was witty of him who 
compared the inferior attendants in the courts of princes to 
the vigils of feast-days, which, though nearest to feast-days, 
are themselves but meagre. 2. By obscuring : for it is also 
the nature of excellent things in their kind, though they do 
not impoverish the substance of what lies near them, yet to 
overshadow and obscure it; whence the astrologers say, that 
though in all the planets conjunction is the most perfect 
amity, yet the sun, though good in aspect, is evil in conjunc- 
tion. 3. By protecting : for things come together, not only 
from a similitude of nature, but even what is evil flies to 
that which is good (especially in civil society) for conceal- 
ment and protection. Thus hypocrisy draws near to religion 
for shelter : 

" Scepe latet vitium proximitate boni." 9 



Divitis servi maxime servi. 8 Ovid, Ars Amandi, ii. 662. 



CHAP. III.] RHETORICAL SOPHISMS EXEMPLIFIED. 241 

So sanctuary-men, who were commonly malefactors, used to 
be nearest the priests and prelates; for the majesty of good 
things is such, that the confines of them are reverend. On 
the other side, good draws near to evil, not for society, but 
for conversation and reformation; and hence physicians visit 
the sick more than the sound, and hence it was objected to 
our Saviour, that he conversed with publicans and sinners. 1 

V. — As all parties challenge the first place, that to which the rest unani- 
mously give the second seems the best ; each taking the first place out of 
affection to itself, but giving the second where it is really due. 

Thus Cicero attempted to prove the Academics to be the 
best sect; for, saith he, "Ask a Stoic which philosophy is best, 
and he will prefer his own ; then ask him which is the next 
best, and he will confess, the Academics. Ask an Epicurean 
the same question, who can scarce endure the Stoic, and as 
soon as he hath placed his own sect, he places the Academics 
next him." u So if a prince separately examined several com- 
petitors for a place, perhaps the ablest and most deserving 
man would have most second voices. 

This colour deceives in respect of envy ; for men are accus- 
tomed, next after themselves and their own faction, to prefer 
those that are softest and most pliable, with intent to ex- 
clude such as would obstruct their measures; whence this 
colour of meliority and pre-eminence becomes a sign of ener- 
vation and weakness. 

VI. — That is absolutely best the excellence whereof is greatest. 
This colour has these forms, — let us not wander in gene- 
rals, let us compare particular with particular, <kc, and 
though it seem strong, and rather logical than rhetorical, 
yet it is sometimes a fallacy : — 1. Because many things are 
exposed to great danger, but if they escape, prove more ex- 
cellent than others; whence their kind is inferior, as being 
subject to accident and miscarriage, though more noble in 
the individual. Thus, to instance, in the blossoms of March, 
one whereof, according to the French proverb, is, if it escape 
accidents, worth ten blossoms of May; so that though in 
general the blossoms of May excel the blossoms of March, 
yet in individuals the best blossoms of March may be pre- 
ferred to the best of May. 2. Because the nature of things 

* Matt. ix. u Academ. Frag. By Varro. 

2 R 



242 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VI. 

in some kinds or species is more equal, and in others more 
unequal. Thus warm climates generally produce people of a 
sharper genius than cold ones ; yet the extraordinary geniuses 
of cold countries usually excel the extraordinary geniuses of 
the warmer. So in the case of armies, if the cause were 
tried by single combat, the victory might often go on the 
one side, but if by a pitched battle, on the other; for excel- 
lencies and superiorities are rather accidental things, whilst 
kinds are governed by nature or discipline. 3. Lastly, many 
kinds have much refuse, which countervails what they have 
of excellent ; and, therefore, though metal be generally more 
precious than stone, yet a diamond is more precious than 
gold. 

VII. — What keeps a matter safe and entire, is good; but what leaves no 
retreat, is bad : for inability to retire is a kind of impotency, but power 
is a good. 

Thus ^Esop feigned that two frogs consulting together in 
a time of drought what was to be done, the one proposed 
going down into a deep well, because probably the water 
would not fail there, but the other answered, "If it should fail 
there too, how shall we get up again % " And the foundation of 
the colour lies here, that human actions are so uncertain and 
exposed to danger, that the best condition seems to be that 
which has most outlets. And this persuasion turns upon 
such forms as these, — You shall engage yourself; You shall 
not be your own carver ; You shall keep the matter in your 
hands, &c. x 

The fallacy of the sophism lies here: — 1. Because fortune 
presses so close upon human affairs, that some resolution is 
necessary; for not to resolve is to resolve, so that irresolu- 
tion frequently entangles us in necessities more than re- 
solving. And this seems to be a disease of the mind, like to 
that of covetousness, only transferred from the desire of 
possessing riches to the desire of free will and power ; for 
as the covetous man enjoys no part of his possessions, for 
fear of lessening them, so the unresolved man executes no- 

x Sertorius having so far obstructed Pompey as to burn one of the 
towns of his allies in his sight, without experiencing from him the 
slightest opposition, added, with scorn, " I will teach this young 
scholar of Sylla, that it is more necessary for a general to look behind 
than before him ;" — a piece of advice, we need hardly say, since the 
whole of life is a combat, as applicable to civil as to military warfare. Ed, 



CHAP. III.] RHETORICAL SOPHISMS EXEMPLIFIED. 24 



thing, that lie may not abridge his freedom and power of 
acting. 2. Because necessity and the fortune of the throw 
adds a spur to the mind ; whence that saying, " In other 
respects equal, but in necessity superior." y 

VIII. — That evil we bring upon ourselves, is greater; and that proceeding 
from without us, less. 

Because remorse of conscience doubles adversity, as a con- 
sciousness of one's own innocence is a great support in afflic- 
tion, — whence the poets exaggerate those sufferings most, 
and paint them leading to despair, wherein the person ac- 
cuses and tortures himself. 

u Seque unam clamat causamque, caputque malorum." 2 
On the other side, persons lessen and almost annihilate their 
misfortunes, by reflecting upon their own innocence and 
merit. Besides, when the evil comes from without, it leaves 
a man to the full liberty of complaint, whereby he spends 
his grief and eases his heart ; for we conceive indignation at 
human injuries, and either meditate revenge ourselves, or 
implore and expect it from the Divine vengeance. Or ii the 
injury came from fortune itself, yet this leaves us to an ex- 
postulation with the Divine Powers, — 

" Atque Deos, atque astra, vocat crudelia mater. " a 
But if the evil be derived from ourselves, the stings of grief 
strike inwards, and stab and wound the mind the deeper. 

This colour deceives, — 1. By hope, which is the greatest 
antidote to evils ; for it is commonly in our power to amend 
our faults, but not our fortunes ; whence Demosthenes said 
frequently to the Athenians, " What is worst for the past is 
best for the future, since it happens by neglect and miscon- 
duct that your affairs are come to this low ebb. Had you, 
indeed, acted your parts to the best, and yet matters should 
thus have gone backward, there would be no hopes of amend- 
ment \ but as it has happened principally through your own 
errors, if these are corrected, all may be recovered." b So 
Epictetus, speaking ot the degrees ot the mind's tranquillity, 
assigns the lowest place to such as accuse others, a higher to 
those who accuse themselves, but the highest to those who 
neither accuse themselves nor others. 2. By pride, which so 
cleaves to the mind that it will scarce suffer men to acknow- 

f Livy, iv. 28. * ^Eneid, xii. 600. ■ Yirg. Eel. v. 23. b Philip, i. 

r2 



244 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VI. 

ledge their errors; and to avoid any such acknowledgment 
they are extremely patient under those misfortunes which 
they bring upon themselves ; for as, when a fault is committed, 
and before it be known who did it, a great stir and commo- 
tion is made ; but if at length it appears to be done by a son 
or a wife, the bustle is at an end. And thus it happens 
when one must take a fault to one's self. And hence we 
frequently see that women, when they do anything against 
their friends' consent, whatever misfortune follows, they sel- 
dom complain, but set a good face on it. 

IX. — Tlie degree of privation seems greater than that of diminution, and 
the degree of inception greater than that of increase. 

It is a position in mathematics, that there is no proportion 
between something and nothing, and therefore the degrees 
of nullity and quiddity seem larger than the degrees of in- 
crease and decrease, as it is for a monoculus to lose an eye 
than for a man who has two. So if a man has lost several 
children, it gives him more grief to lose the last than all the 
rest, because this was the hope of his family. Therefore, 
the Sibyl, when she had burned two of her three books, 
doubled her price upon the third, because the loss of this 
would only have been a degree of privation, and not of dimi- 
nution. 

This colour deceives, — 1. in things whose use and service 
lie in a sufficiency, competency, or determinate quantity : 
thus if a man were to pay a large sum upon a penalty, it 
might be harder upon him to want twenty shillings for this 
than ten pounds for another occasion. So in running through 
an estate, the first step .towards it — viz., breaking in upon 
the stock — is a higher degree of mischief than the last, viz., 
spending the last penny. And to this colour belong those 
common forms — It is too late to pinch at the bottom of the 
purse ; As good never a whit as never the better, &c. 2. It 
deceives from this principle in nature, that the corruption of 
one thing is the generation of another ; whence the ultimate 
degree of privation itself is often less felt, as it gives occasion 
and a spur to some new course. So when Demosthenes re- 
buked the people for hearkening to the dishonourable and 
unequal conditions of King Philip, he called those conditions 
the food of their sloth and indolence, which they had better 



CHAP. III.] RHETORICAL SOPHISMS EXEMPLIFIED. 245 

be without, because then their industry would be excited to 
procure other remedies. So a blunt physician whom I knew, 
when the delicate ladies complained to him, they were they 
could not tell how, yet could nob endure to take physic, he 
would tell them their way was to be sick, for then they 
would be glad to take anything. 3. Nay, the degree of priva- 
tion itself, or the extremest indigence, may be serviceable, not 
only to excite our industry, but to command our patience. 

The second part ot this sophism stands upon the same 
foundation, or the degrees betwixt something and nothing ; 
whence the common-place of extolling the begin nings of 
everything, Well-begun is half-done, &c. 

" Dimidium facti, qui coepit, habet." c 
And hence the superstition of the astrologers, who judge the 
disposition and fortune of a man from the instant of his 
nativity or conception. 

This colour deceives, — 1. because many beginnings are but 
imperfect offers and essays, which vanish and come to 
nothing without repetition and farther advancement ; so that 
here the second degree seems more worthy and powerful 
than the first, as a body-horse in a team draws more than 
the fore-horse : whence it is not ill said, The second word 
makes the quarrel ; for the first might perhaps have proved 
harmless if it had not been retorted ; therefore the first gives 
the occasion indeed, but the second makes reconciliation 
more difficult. 2. This sophism deceives by weariness, which 
makes perseverance of greater dignity than inception ; for 
chance or nature may give a beginning, but only settled 
affection and judgment can give continuance. 3. It deceives 
in things whose nature and common course carries them 
contrary to the first attempt, which is therefore continually 
frustrated, and gets no ground unless the force be redoubled : 
hence the common forms — Not to go forwards is to go back- 
wards — running up hill — rowing against the stream, &c. 
But if it be with the stream, or with the hill, then the de- 
gree of inception has by much the advantage. 4. This colour 
not only reaches to the degree of inception from power to 
action, compared with the degree from action to increase, 
but also to the degree from want of power to power, com- 

• Hor. Epist. 1, ii. 40. 



216 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VI. 

pared with the degree from power to action ; for the degree 
from want of power to power seems greater than that from 
power to action. 

X. — What relates to truth is greater than what relates to opinion; hut the 
measure and trial of what relates to opinion is what a man would not do 
if he thought he were secret. 

So the Epicureans pronounce of the stoical felicity placed 
in virtue, that it is the felicity of a player, who, left by his 
audience, would soon sink in his spirit ; whence they in ridi- 
cule call virtue a theatrical good ; but it is otherwise in 
riches — 

" Populus me sibilat ; at mihi plaudo," d 
and pleasure, 

" Grata sub imo 

Gaudia corde premens, vultu simulante pudorem," e 

which are felt more inwardly. 

The fallacy of this colour is somewhat subtile, though the 
answer to the example be easy, as virtue is not chosen for 
the sake of popular fame, and as every one ought principally 
to reverence himself; so that a virtuous man will be vir- 
tuous in a desert as well as a theatre, though perhaps virtue is 
made somewhat more vigorous by praise, as heat by reflec- 
tion. But this only denies the supposition, and does not 
expose the fallacy. Allowing, then, that virtue, joined with 
labour, would not be chosen but for the praise and fame 
which usually attend it, yet it is no consequence that virtue 
should not be desired principally for its own sake, since fame 
may be only an impellent, and not a constituent or efficient 
cause. Thus, if when two horses are rode without the spur, 
one of them performs better than the other, but with the 
spur the other far exceeds, this will be judged the better 
horse : and to say that his mettle lies in the spur, is not 
making a true judgment; for since the spur is a com- 
mon instrument in horsemanship, and no impediment or 
burthen to the horse, he will not be esteemed the worse 
horse that wants it, but the going well without it is rather 
a point of delicacy than perfection. So glory and honour are 
the spurs to virtue, which, though it might languish without 
them, yet since they are always at hand unsought, virtue is 

d Hor. i. Sat. i. 66. e Ibid. 



CHAP. III.] RHETORICAL SOPHISMS EXEMPLIFIED. 247 

not less to be chosen for itself, because it needs the spur of 
fame and reputation, which clearly confutes the sophism. 

XI. — What is procured by our own virtue and industry is a greater good ; 
and what by another's, or by the gift oj fortune, a less. 

The reasons are, — 1. Future hope, because in the favours 
of others, or the gifts of fortune, there is no great certainty ; 
but our own virtue and abilities are always with us : so that 
when they have purchased us one good, we have them as 
ready, and by use better edged to procure us another. 
2. Because what we enjoy by the benefit of others carries 
with it an obligation to them for it, whereas what is derived 
from ourselves comes without clog or incumbrance. Nay, 
when the Divine Providence bestows favours upon us, they 
require acknowledgments and a kind of retribution to the 
Supreme Being ; but in the other kind, men rejoice (as the 
prophet speaks), and are glad ; they offer to their toils, and 
sacrifice to their nets. f 3. Because what comes to us unpro- 
cured by our own virtue, yields not that praise and reputation 
we affect; for actions of great felicity may produce much 
wonder, but no praise : so Cicero said to Caesar, " We have 
enough to admire, but want somewhat to praise." £ 4. Be- 
cause the purchases of our own industry are commonly 
joined with labour and struggle, which have not only some 
sweetness themselves, but give an edge and relish to enjoy- 
ment. Yenison is sweet to him that kills it. h 

There are four opposites or counter-colours to this sophism, 
and may serve as confutations to the four preceding colours 
respectively. 1. Because felicity seems to be a work of the 
Divine favour, and accordingly begets confidence and alacrity 
in ourselves, as well as respect and reverence from others. 
And this felicity extends to casual things, which human 
virtue can hardly reach. So when Caesar said to the master 
of the ship in a storm, " Thou earnest Csesar and his for- 
tune ; " if he should have said, " Thou carriest Caesar and his 
virtue," it had been but a small support against the danger. 
2. Because those things which proceed from virtue and in- 
dustry are imitable, and lie open to others ; whereas felicity 
is inimitable, and the prerogative of a singular person : 

f Habac. i. 15, 16. 

* " Quae miremur habemus, quae laudemus expectamus." — Orat. pro 
Marcellus. h Suavis cibus a venatu. 



248 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VI. 

whence, in general, natural things are preferred to artificial, 
because incapable of imitation ; for whatever is imitable 
seems common, and in every one's power. 3. The things 
that proceed from felicity seem free gifts unpurchased by 
industry, but those acquired by virtue seem bought : whence 
Plutarch said elegantly of the successes of Timoleon (an 
extremely fortunate man), compared with those of his con- 
temporaries Agesilaus and Epaminondas, " that they were 
like Homer s verses, and besides their other excellencies, ran 
peculiarly smooth and natural." 4. Because what happens 
unexpectedly is more acceptable, and enters the mind with 
greater pleasure ; but this effect cannot be had in things 
procured by our own industry. 

XII. — What consists of many divisible parts is greater, and more one than 
what consists of fewer ; for all things ivhen viewed m their parts seem 
greater, whence also a plurality of parts shows bulky ; but a plurality 
of parts has the stronger effect, if they lie in no certain order, for thus 
they resemble infinity and prevent comprehension. 

This sophism appears gross at first sight ; for it is not 
plurality of parts alone, without majority, that makes the 
total greater; yet the imagination is often carried away, and 
the sense deceived with this colour. Thus to the eye the 
road upon a naked plain may seem shorter, than where there 
are trees, buildings, or other marks, by which to distinguish 
and divide the distance. So when a monied man divides his 
chests and bags, he seems to himself richer than he was ; and 
therefore a way to amplify anything is to break it into 
several parts, and examine them separately. And this 
makes the greater show, if done without order; for confusion 
shows things more numerous than they are. But matters 
ranged and set in order appear more confined, and prove 
that nothing is omitted; whilst such as are represented in 
confusion not only appear more in number, but leave a sus- 
picion of many more behind. 

This colour deceives, — 1. if the mind entertain too great 
an opinion of anything; for then the breaking of it will 
destroy that false notion, and show the thing really as it is, 
without amplification. Thus if a man be sick or in pain, the 
time seems longer without a clock than with one ; for though 
the irksomeness of pain makes the time seem longer than 
it is, yet the measuring it corrects the error, and shows it 



CHAP. III.] RHETORICAL SOPHISMS EXEMPLIFIED. 24:9 

shorter than that false opinion had conceived it. And so in 
a naked plain, contrary to what was just before observed, 
though the way to the eye may seem shorter when undivided, 
yet the frustration of that false expectation will afterwards 
cause it to appear longer than the truth. Therefore, if a 
man design to encourage the false opinion of another as to 
the greatness of a thing, let him not divide and split it, but 
extol it in the general. This colour deceives, — 2. if the 
matter be so far divided and dispersed as not all to appear 
at one view. So flowers growing in separate beds show 
more than if they grow in one bed, provided all the beds are 
in the same plot, so as to be viewed at once; otherwise they 
appear more numerous when brought nearer than when 
scattered wider : and hence lauded estate? that lie contiguous 
are usually accounted greater than they are; for if they lie in 
different counties, they could not so well fall within notice. 
3. This sophism deceives through the excellence of unity 
above multitude; for all composition is an infallible sign of 
deficiency in particulars, — 

M Et quae non prosunt singula, multa juvant."' 1 
For if one would serve the turn, it were best ; but defects 
and imperfections require to be pieced and helped out. So 
Martha, employed about many things, was told that one was 
sufficient^ And upon this foundation ^Esop invented the 
fable how the fox braced to the cat what a number of 
devices and stratagems he had to cret from the hounds, when 
the cat said she had one, and that was to climb a tree, which 
in fact was better than all the shifts of reynarcl; whence the 
proverb, ' ; Multa novit vulpes, sed felis unum magnum." l 
And the moral of the fable is this, that it is better to rely 
upon an able and trusty friend in difficulty than upon all 
the fetches and contrivances of one's own wit. 

It were easy to collect a large number of this kind ol 
sophisms, — which we collected in our youth, but without 
their illustrations and solutions. These at last we have 
found time to digest, and think the performance of con- 
siderable service, — whereto if their fallacies and detections 
were annexed, it might be a work of considerable service, 
as launching into primary philosophy and politics as well as 

1 Ovid, Remedia Amoris, 429. k Luke x. 41. 

1 The fjx had many shifts, but the cat a capital one. 



250 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VI. 

rhetoric. And so much for the popular marks or colours of 
apparent good and evil, both simple and comparative. 

A second collection wanting to the apparatus of rhetoric 
is that intimated by Cicero, when he directs a set ot com- 
mon-places, suited to both sides of the question, to be had in 
readiness : such are, " pro verbis legis," et " pro sententia legis." 
But we extend this precept farther, so as to include not only 
judicial, but also deliberate and demonstrative forms. Our 
meaning is, that all the places of common use, whether for 
proof, confutation, persuasion, dissuasion, praise, or dispraise, 
should be ready studied, and either exaggerated or degraded 
with the utmost effort of genius, or, as it were, perverse 
resolution beyond all measure of truth. And the best way 
of forming this collection, both for conciseness and use, we 
judge to be that of contracting and winding up these places 
into certain acute and short sentences ; as into so many 
clues, which may occasionally be wound off into larger dis- 
courses. And something of this kind we find done by 
Seneca ; m but only in the way of suppositions or cases. The 
following examples will more fully illustrate our intention : — 

For. , beauty. n Against. 

The deformed endeavour, by Virtue, like a diamond, is best 

malice, to keep themselves from plain set. 

contempt. As a good dress to a deformed 

Deformed persons are commonly person, so is beauty to a vicious 

revenged of nature. man. 

Virtue is internal beauty, and Those adorned with beauty, and 

beauty external virtue. those affected by it, are generally 

Beauty makes virtue shine, and shallow alike, 
vice blush. 

For. boldness. Against. 

A bashful suitor shows the way Boldness is the verger to folly, 

to deny him. Impudence is fit for nothing but 

Boldness in a politician is like imposture, 

action in an orator — the first, Confidence is the fool's empress 

second, and third qualification. and the wise man's buffoon. 

Love the man who confesses his Boldness is a kind of dulness, 

modesty ; but hate him who ac- joined with a perverseness. 
cuses it. 

A confidence in carriage soonest 
unites affections. 

Give me a reserved countenance 
and open conversation. 



m Controversia. 

n In the original there is a different arrangement. We have followed 
the alphabetical order. 



CHAP. III.] 



EXAMPLES OF ANTITHETA. 



251 



For. 



CEREMONIES. 



Against. 



A graceful deportment is the 
true ornament of virtue. 

If we follow the vulgar in the 
use of words, why not in habit and 
gesture ? 

He who observes not decorum 
in smaller matters may be a great 
man, but is unwise at times. 

Virtue and wisdom, without all 
respect and ceremony, are, like 
loreign languages, unintelligible 
to the vulgar. 

He who knows not the sense of 
the people, neither by congruity 
nor observation, is senseless. 

Ceremonies are the translation 
of virtue into our own language. 



What can be more disagreeable 
than in common lite to copy the 
stage ? 

Ingenuous behaviour procures 
esteem, but affectation and cun- 
ning, hatred. 

Better a painted face and curled 
hair, than a painted and curled 
behaviour. 

He is incapable of great matters 
who breaks his mind with trifling 
observations. 

Affectation is the glossy corrup- 
tion 01 ingenuity. 



For. 



CONSTANCY. 



Against. 



Constancy is the foundation of 
virtue. 

He is miserable who has no 
notion of what he shall be. 

It human judgment cannot be 
constant to things, let it at least 
be true to itself. 

Even vice is set off by constancy. 

Inconstancy of fortune with in- 
constancy of mind makes a dark 
scene. 

Fortune, like Proteus, is brought 
to herself by persisting. 

For. CRUELTY 



Constancy, like a churlish por- 
teress, turns away many useful 
informations. 

It is just that constancy should 
endure crosses, for it commonly 
brings them. 

The shortest folly is the best. 



Against. 



No virtue is so often delinquent 
as clemency. 

Cruelty proceeding from revenge 
is justice ; if from danger, pru- 
dence. 

He who shows mercy to his 
enemy denies it to himself. 

Phlebotomy is as necessaiy in 
the body politic as in the body 
natural. 



He who delights in blood is 
either a wild beast or a fury. 

To a good man, cruelty seems a 
mere tragical fiction. 



For. 

Fortune sells many things to the 
hasty which she gives to the slow. 

Hurrying to catch the begin- 
nings of things is grasping at 
shadows. 



delay. Against. 

Opportunity offers the handle of 
the bottle first, then the belly. 

Opportunity, like the Sibyl, di- 
minishes the commodity but en- 
hances the price. 



252 



ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 



[BOOK VI. 



When things hang wavering, 
mark them, and work when they 
incline. 

Commit the beginning of actions 
to Argus, with his hundred eyes, 
the end to Briareus, with his hun- 
dred hands. 

For. DISSIMULATION 

Dissimulation is a short wisdom. 

We are not all to say, though 
we all intend, the same thing. 

Nakedness, even in the mind, is 
uncomely. 

Dissimulation is both a grace 
and a guard. 

Dissimulation is the bulwark of 
counsels. 

Some fall a prey to fair dealing. 

The open dealer deceives as well 
as the dissembler ; iur many either 
do not understand him or not be- 
lieve him. 

Open dealing is a weakness of 
mind. 



Dispatch is Pluto's helmet. 
Thing3 undertaken speedily are 
easily performed. 



Against. 

If we cannot think justly, at 
least let us speak as we think. 

In shallow politicians, dissimu- 
lation goes for wisdom. 

The dissembler loses a principal 
instrument of action, belief. 

Dissimulation invites dissimula- 
tion. 

The dissembler is a slave. 



I 1 or. 



EMPIRE. 



Against. 



To enjoy happiness is a great 
blessing, but to conler it a greater. 

Kings are more like stars than 
men, for they have a powerlal in- 
fluence. 

To resist God's vicegerents is to 
war against heaven. 



It is a miserable state to have 
few things to desire and many to 
fear. 

Princes, like the celestial bodies, 
have much veneration but no rest. 

Mortals are admitted to Jupi- 
ter's table only lor sport. 



For. 



ENVY. 



Against. 



It is natural to hate those who 
reproach us. 

Envy in a state is like a whole- 
some severity. 



Envy has no holidays. 

Death alone reconciles envy to 
virtue. 

Envy puts virtue to the trial, as 
Juno did Hercules. 



EVIDENCE AGAINST ARGUMENTS. 



For. 



To rely upon arguments is the 
part of a pleader, not a judge. 

He who is swayed more by ar- 
guments than testimony, trusts 
more to wit than sense. 

Arguments might be trusted, if 
men committed no absurdities. 



Against. 

If evidence were to prevail 
against arguments, a judge would 
need no sense but his hearing. 

Arguments are an antidote 
against the poison of testimonies. 

Those proofs are safest believed 
which seldomest deceive. 



CHAP. III.] 



EXAMINES OF ANTITHETA. 



253 



Arguments against testimonies 
make the case appear strange, but 
not true. 

For. facility. Against. 

Give me the man who complies Facility is want of judgment. 



to another's humour without flat 
tery. 

The flexible man comes nearest 
to the nature of gold. 



The good offices of easy natures 
seem debts, and their denials, in- 
juries. 

He thanks only himself who 
prevails upon an easy man. 

All difficulties oppress a yield- 
ing nature, for he is engaged in 
all. 

Easy natures seldom come off 
with credit. 



For. 



FLATTERY. 



Against 



Flattery proceeds from custom 
rather than ill design. 

To convey instruction with praise 
is a form due to the great. 



Flattery is the style of a slave. 

Flattery is the varnish of vice. 

Flattery is fowling with a bird- 
call. 

The deformity of flattery is 
comedy ; but the injury, tragedy. 

To convey good counsel is a 
hard task. 



For. 



FORTITUDE. 



Against. 



Nothing is terrible but fear 
itself. 

Pleasure and virtue lose their 
nature where fear disquiets. 

To view danger is looking out 
to avoid it. 

Other virtues subdue vice, but 
fortitude even conquers fortune. 



A strange virtue that, to desire 
to destroy, to secure destruction. 

A goodly virtue truly, which 
even drunkenness can cause. 

A prodigal of his own life 
threatens the lives of others. 

Fortitude is a virtue of the iron 
age. 



For. 



FORTUNE. 



Against. 



Public virtues procure praise ; 
but private ones, fortune. 

Fortune, like the milky way, is 
a cluster of small, twinkling, name- 
less virtues. 

Fortune is to be honoured and 
respected, though it were but for 
her daughters, Confidence and Au- 
thority. 

For. friendship. Against. 

Friendship does the same as To contract friendship is to pro 

fortitude, but more agreeably. cure incumbrance. 



The folly of one man is the for- 
tune of another. 

This may be commended in for- 
tune, that if she makes no election, 
she gives no protection. 

The great, to decline envy, wor- 
ship fortune. 



254 



ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. [BOOK VI 



Friendship gives the relish to 
happiness. 

The worst solitude is to want 
friendship. 

It is just that the hollow-hearted 
should not find friendship. 

For. HEALTH. 



It is a weak spirit that divides 
fortune with another. 



Against. 



The care of health subjects the 
mind to the body. 

A healthy body is the taberna- 
cle, but a sickly one the prison of 
the soul. 

A sound constitution forwards 
business, but a sickly one makes 
many holidays. 



Recovery from sickness is reju- 
venescency. 

Pretence of sickness is a good 
excuse for the healthy. 

Health too strongly cements the 
soul and body. 

The couch has governed empires, 
and the litter, armies. 



For. 

Honours are the 
of tyrants, but Divine Providence. 

Honours make both virtue and 
vice conspicuous. 

Honour is the touchstone of 
virtue. 

The motion of virtue is rapid to 
its place, but calm in it ; but the 
place of virtue is honour. 

For. jests. 

A jest is the orator's altar. 

Humour in conversation pre- 
serves freedom. 

It is highly politic to pass 
smoothly from jest to earnest, and 
vice versa. 

Witty conceits are vehicles to 
truths that could not be otherwise 
agreeably conveyed. 



HONOURS. Against. 

suffrages, not To seek honour is to lose liberty. 



Honours give command where it 
is best not to will ; and next, not 
to be able. 

The steps of honour are hard to 
climb, slippery a-top, and danger- 
ous to go down. 

Men in great place borrow others' 
opinions, to think themselves 
happy. 

Against. 

Hunters after deformities and 
comparisons are despicable crea- 
tures. 

To divert important business 
with a jest is a base trick. 

Judge of a jest when the laugh 
is over. 

Wit commonly plays on the sur- 
face of things, for surface is the 
seat oi a jest. 



For 



INGRATITUDE. 



Ingratitude is but perceiving the 
cause of a benefit. 

The desire of being grateful 
neither does justice to others nor 
leaves one's self at liberty. 

A benefit of an uncertain value 
merits the less thanks. 



Against. 



The sin of ingratitude is not 
made penal here, but left to the 
furies. 

The obligations for benefits ex- 
ceed the obligation of duties; 
whence ingratitude is also unjust. 

No public fortune can exclude 
private favour. 



Saxe. 



As happened in the persons of Charles V. and the Mare'chal De 






CHAP. 



in.] 



EXAMPLES OF ANTITHETA. 



255 



For. 



INNOVATION. 



Against. 



Every remedy is an innovation. 

He who will not apply new re- 
medies must expect new diseases. 

Time is the greatest innovator : 
and why may we not imitate time ? 

Ancient precedents are unsuit- 
able, and late ones corrupt and 
degenerate. 

Let the ignorant square their 
actions by example. 

As they who first derive honour 
to their family are commonly more 
worthy than those who succeed 
them, so innovations generally ex- 
cel imitations. 

An obstinate adherence to cus- 
toms is as turbulent a thing as in- 
novation. 

Since things of their own course 
change for the worse, if they are 
not by prudence altered for the 
better, what end can there be of 
the ill ? 

The slaves of custom are the 
sport of time. 

For. justice. 

Power and policy are but the 
appendages of justice ; lor if jus- 
tice could be otherwise executed, 
there were no need of them. 

It is owing to justice that man 
to man is a god, not a wolf. 

Though justice cannot extirpate 
vice, it keeps it under. 



New births are deformed things. 

No author is accepted till time 
has authorized him. 

All novelty is injury, for it de- 
faces the present state of things. 

Things authorized by custom, if 
not excellent, are yet comfortable 
and sort well together. 

What innovator follows the ex- 
ample of time, which brings about 
new things so quietly as to be 
almost imperceptible ? 

Things that happen unexpected 
are less agreeable to those they 
benefit and more afflicting to those 
they injure. 



Against. 



If justice consist in doing to 
another what we would have done 
to ourselves, then mercy is 
justice. 

If every one must receive his 
due, then surely mortals must re- 
ceive pardon. 

The common justice of a nation, 
like a philosopher at court, ren- 
ders rulers awful. 



KNOWLEDGE AND CONTEMPLATION. 



For. 

That pleasure only is according 
to nature, which never cloys. 

The sweetest prospect is that 
below, into the errors of others. 

It is best to have the orbits of 
the mind concentric with those of 
the universe. 

All depraved affections are false 
valuations, but goodness and truth 
are ever the same. 



Against. 

A contemplative life is but a 
specious laziness. 

To think well is little better 
than to dream well. 

Divine Providence regards the 
world, but man regards only his 
country. 

A political man sows even his 
thoughts. 



256 



ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VT. 



For. law 

It is not expounding, but divin 



mg, to recede from the letter of 
the law. 

To leave the letter of the law 
makes the judge a legislator. 

For. LEARNING. 

To write books upon minute 
particulars were to render expe- 
rience almost useless. 

Reading is conversing with the 
wise, but acting is generally con- 
versing with fools. 

Sciences of little significance in 
themselves may sharpen the wit 



Against. 

Generals are to be construed so 
as to explain particulars. 

The worst tyranny is law upon 
the rack. 



and marshal the thoughts. 



Against. 

Men in universities are taught 
to believe. 

What art ever taught the sea- 
sonable use of art ? 

To be wise by precept and wise 
by experience are contrary habits, 
the one sorts not with the other. 

A vain use is made of art, lest 
it should otherwise be unemployed. 

It is the way of scholars to show 
all they know and oppose farther 
information. 



For. LIFE 

It is absurd to love the acci- 
dents of lite above life itself. 

A long course is better than a 
short one, even for virtue. 

Without a compass of life, we 
can neither learn, nor repent, nor 
perfect. 



Against. 

The philosophers, by their 
great preparation for death, 
have only rendered death more 
terrible. 

Men fear death through igno- 
rance, as children tear the dark. 

There is no passion so weak but, 
if a little urged, will conquer the 
fear of death. 

A man would wish to die, even 
through weariness of doing the 
same things over and over again. 



For. 



LOQUACITY. 



Against. 



Silence argues a man to suspect 
either himself or others. 

All restraints are irksome, but 
especially that of the tongue. 

Silence is the virtue of fools. 

Silence, like the night, is fit for 
treacheries. 

Thoughts, like waters, are best 
in a running stream. 

Silence is a kind of solitude. 

He who is silent exposes himself 
to censure. 

For. love. Against 

Every man seeks, but the lover The stage is more beholden to 

only finds, himself. love than civil lite. 



To speak little gives grace and 
authority to what is delivered. 

Silence is like sleep, it refreshes 
wisdom. 

Silence is the fermentation of 
the thoughts. 

Silence is the style of wisdom 
and the candidate for truth. 



CHAP. 



m.] 



EXAMPLES OP ANTITHETA. 



257 



The mind is best regulated by 
the predominancy oi some power- 
ful affection. 

He who is wise will pursue some 
one desire ; for he that affects not 
one thing above another, finds all 
fiat and distasteful. 

Why should not one man rest in 
one individual ? 



I like not such men as are wholly 
taken up with one thing. 

Love is but a narrow contem- 
plation. 



For. 



MAGNANIMITY. 



Against. 



When the mind proposes ho- 
nourable ends, not only the vir- 
tues but the deities are ready to 
assist. 

Virtues proceeding from habit 
or precept are vulgar, but tho^e 
that proceed from the end, 
heroical. 

For. NATURE. 

Custom goes in arithmetical, but 
nature in geometrical progression. 

As laws are to custom in states, 
so is nature to custom in particular 
persons. 

Custom against nature is a kind 
of tyranny, but easily suppressed. 

For. NOBILITY. 



Magnanimity is a poetical 
virtue. 



Against. 

Men think according to nature, 
speak according to precept, but act 
according to custom. 

Nature is a kind of schoolmaster; 
custom, a magistrate. 



Against. 



Where virtue is deeply implanted 
from the stock, there can be no 
vice. 

Nobility is a laurel conierred by 
time. 

If we reverence antiquity in 
dead monuments, we should do it 
much more in living ones. 

If we despise nobility in families, 
what difference is there betwixt 
men and brutes ? 

Nobility shelters virtue from 
envy and recommends it to favour. 

For. POPULARITY 

Uniformity commonly pleases 

wise men, yet it is a point of wis 

dom to humour the 

nature of fools. 

To honour the people is the way 

to be honoured. 

Men in place are usually awed 

not by one man but the multitude. 
2 



from 
from 



changeable 



Nobility seldom springs 
virtue, and virtue seldomer 
nobility. 

Nobles oftener plead their an- 
cestors for pardon than promotion. 

New rising men are so indus- 
trious as to make nobles seem like 
statues. 

Nobles, like bad racers, look 
back too often in the course. 



Against. 

He who suits with fools may 
himself be suspected. 

He who pleases the rabble is 
commonly turbulent. 

No moderate counsels take with 
the vulgar. 

To fawn on the people is the 
basest flattery. 



258 



ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING, 



[BOOK VI. 



For. 



PEAISE. 



Against. 



Praise is the reflected ray of 
virtue. 

Praise is honour obtained by 
free voices. 

Many states confer honours, but 
praise always proceeds from liberty. 

The voice of the people hath 
something of divine, else how- 
should so many become of one 
mind ? 

No wonder if the commonalty 
speak truer than the nobility, be- 
cause they speak with less danger. 



Fame makes a quick messenger 
but a rash judge. 

What has a good man to 
do with the breath of the 
vulgar ? 

Fame, like a river, buoys up 
things light and swollen, but drowns 
those that are weighty. 

Low virtues gain the praise of 
the vulgar, ordinary ones astonish 
them, but of the highest they have 
no feeling. 

Praise is got by bravery more 
than merit, and given rather to 
the vain and empty than to the 
worthy and substantial. 



For 



PREPARATION. 



Against. 



He who attempts great matters 
with small means hopes for oppor- 
tunity to keep him in heart. 

Slender provision buys wit, but 
not fortune. 



The first occasion is the best 
preparation. 

Fortune is not to be fettered in 
the chains of preparation. 

The interchange of preparation 
and action are politic, but the se- 
paration of them ostentatious and 
unsuccessful. 

Great preparation is a prodigal 
both of time and business. 



For. 



PRIDE. 



Against. 



Pride is inconsistent even with 
vice ; and as poison expels poison, 
so are many vices expelled by 
pride. 

An easy nature is subject to 
other men's vices, but a proud one 
only to its own. 

Pride, if it rise from a contempt 
of others to a contempt of itself, at 
length becomes philosophy. 

For. READINESS. 



Pride is the ivy of virtue. 

Other vices are only opposites 
to virtues, but pride is even con- 
tagious. 

Pride wants the best condition 
of vice, concealment. 

A proud man, while he despises 
others, neglects himself. 



That is unseasonable wisdom 
which is not ready. 

He who errs suddenly, suddenly 
reforms his error. 

To be wise upon deliberation, 
and not upon present occasion, is 
no srreat matter. 



Against. 

That knowledge is not deep 
fetched which lies ready at hand. 

Wisdom is like a garment, 
lightest when readiest. 

They whose counsels are not 
ripened by deliberation have not 
their prudence ripened by age. 

What is suddenly invented sud- 
denly vanishes. 



CHAP. 



in.] 



EXAMPLES OF ANTITHETA. 



259 



For. 



REVENGE. 



Against 



Private revenge is a kind of 
wild justice. 

He who returns injury for 
injury violates the law, not the 
person. 

The fear of private revenge is 
useful, for laws are often asleep. 



He who does the wrong is the 
aggressor, but he who returns it 
the protractor. 

The more prone men are to re- 
venge, the more it should be weeded 
out. 

A revengeful man may be slow 
in time, though not in will. 



For. 



EICHES. 



Against. 



They despise riches who despair 
of them. 

Envy at riches has made virtue 
a goddess. 

Whilst philosophers dispute 
whether all things should be re- 
ferred to virtue or pleasure, let us 
be collecting the instruments of 
both. 

Riches turn virtue into a com- 
mon good. 

The command of other advan- 
tages are particular, but that of 
riches universal. 



Great riches are attended either 
with care, trouble, or fame, but no 
use. 

What an imaginary value is set 
upon stones and other curiosities, 
that riches may seem to be of some 
service. 

Many who imagine all things 
may be bought by their riches, 
forget they have sold them- 
selves. 

Riches are the baggage of vir- 
tue, necessary though cumber- 
some. 

Riches are a good servant but a 
bad master. 



For. 

They who err out of zeal, though 
they are not to be approved, should 
yet be pitied. 

Mediocrity belongs to morality, 
extremes to divinity. 

A superstitious man is a reli- 
gious formalist. 

I should sooner believe all the 
fables and absurdities of any reli- 
gion than that the universal frame 
is without a deity. 



superstition. Against. 

As an ape appears the more 
deformed for his resemblance to 
man, so the similitude of supersti- 
tion to religion makes it the more 
odious. 

What affectation is in civil mat- 
ters such is superstition in divine.P 

It were better to have no belief 
of a God than such an one as dis- 
honours him. 

It was not the school of Epi- 
curus, but the Stoics, that dis- 
turbed the states of old. 

The real atheists are hypocrites, 
who deal continually in holy things 
without feeling. 



p Superstition is anything but affectation. They are hypocrites who 
dissemble : those who believe too much are generally over earnest. Ed. 

s2 



260 



ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VI. 



For. 



SUSPICION. 



Against 



Distrust; is the sinew of pru- 
dence, and suspicion a strengthener 
of the understanding. 

That sincerity is justly suspected 
which suspicion weakens. 

Suspicion breaks afrail integrity, 
but confirms a strong one. 

For. TACITURNITY, 



Suspicion breaks the bonds of 
trust. 

To be overrun with suspicion 
is a kind of political madness. 



Nothing is concealed from a 
silent man, for all is safely depo- 
sited with him. 

He who easily talks what he 
knows, will also talk what he knows 
not. 

Mysteries are due to secrets. 



Against. 

From a silent man all things are 
concealed, because he returns no- 
thing but silence. 

Change of customs keeps men 
secret. 

Secrecy is the virtue of a con- 
fessor. 

A close man is like a man un- 
known. 



For. TEMPERANCE 

To abstain and sustain are nearly 
the same virtue. 

Uniformity, concords, and the 
measure of motions, are things 
celestial and the characters of 
eternity. 

Temperance, like wholesome 
cold, collects and strengthens the 
force of the mind. 

When the senses are too exqui- 
site and wandering, they want nar- 
cotics, so likewise do wandering 



Against. 

I like not bare negative virtues ; 
they argue innocence, not merit. 

The mind languishes that is not 
sometimes spirited up by excess. 

I like the virtues which produce 
the vivacity of action, not the dul- 
ness of passion. 

The sayings, " Not to use, that 
you may not desire;" "Not to 
desire, that you may not fear," &c, 
proceed from pusillanimous and 
distrustful natures. 



affections. 

For. vain-glory. Against. 

The vain -glorious are always 



He who seeks his own praise at 
the same time seeks the advantage 
of others. 

He who is so strait-laced as to 
regard nothing that belongs to 
others, will perhaps account public 
affairs impertinent. 

Such dispositions as have a mix- 
ture of levity, more easily under- 
take a public charge. 

For. UNCHASTITY. 



factious, false, fickle, and upon the 
extreme. 

Thraso is Gnatho's prey. 

It is shameful in a lover to court 
the maid instead of the mistress, 
but praise is only virtue's hand- 
maid. 



It is jealousy that makes chastity 
a virtue. 

He must be a melancholy mor- 
tal who thinks Venus a grave lady. 

Why is a part of regimen, pre- 



Agalnst. 

Incontinence is one of Circe's 
worst transformations. 

The unchaste liver has no re- 
verence for himself, which is slack- 
ening the bridle of vice. 



chap. 



in.] 



EXAMPLES OF ANTITHETA. 



261 



tended cleanness, and the daughter 
of pride, placed among the virtues? 
In amours, as in wild fowl, there 
is property ; but the right is trans- 
ferred with possession. 



They who, with Paris, make 
beauty their wish, lose, as he did, 
wisdom and power. 

Alexander fell upon no popular 
truth when he said that sleep and 
lust were the earnest of death. 



For. 

More dangers deceive by fraud 
than force. 

It is easier to prevent a danger 
than to watch its approach. 

Danger is no longer lio-ht if it 
once seem light. 



watchfulness. Against. 

He bids danger advance, who 
buckles against it. 

Even the remedies of dangers 
are dangerous. 

It is better to use a few approved 
remedies than to venture upon 
many unexperienced particulars. 



For. wife and children. Against. 

He who hath wife and children 
hath given hostages to fortune. 

Generation and issue are human 
acts, but creation and its works 
are divine. 

Issue is the eternity of brutes ; 
but fame, merit, and institutions 
the eternity of men. 

Private regards generally pre- 
vail over public. 

Some aifect the fortune of Priam, 
in surviving his family. 



Charity to the commonwealth 
begins with private families. 

Wife and children are a kind of 
discipline, but unmarried men are 
morose and cruel. 

A single life and a childless state 
fit men for nothing but flight. 

He sacrifices to death who begets 
no children. 

The happy in other respects are 
commonly unfortunate in their 
children, lest the human state 
should too nearly approach the 
divine. 



For. 

The first thoughts and counsels 
of youth have somewhat divine. . 

Old men are wise for themselves, 
but less for others and the public 
good. 

If it were visible, old age de- 
forms the mind more than the 
body. 

Old men fear all things but the 
£ods. 



youth. Against. 

Youth is the field of repent- 
ance. 

Youth naturally despises the 
authority of age, that every one 
may grow wise at his peril. 

The counsels whereat time did 
not assist are not ratified by him. 

Old men commute Venus for the 
graces, i 



The examples of antitliets here laid down may not, per- 
haps, deserve the place assigned them ; but as they were 
collected in my youth, and are really seeds, not flowers, I was 
unwilling they should be lost. In this they plainly show a 



i Understand propriety and decorum. 



262 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING; [BOOK VI 

juvenile warmth, that they abound in the moral and demon- 
strative kind, but touch sparingly upon the deliberative and 
judicial. 

A third collection wanting to the apparatus of rhetoric, is 
what we call lesser forms. And these are a kind of portals, 
postern-doors, outer rooms, back-rooms, and passages of 
speech, which may serve indifferently for all subjects ; such 
as prefaces, conclusions, digressions, transitions, &c. For as 
in building, a good distribution of the frontispiece, stair- 
cases, doors, windows, entries, passages, and the like, is not 
only agreeable but useful ; so in speeches, if the accessories 
or under-parts be decently and skilfully contrived and placed, 
they are of great ornament and service to the whole structure 
of the discourse. Of these forms, we will just propose one 
example or two ; for though they are matters of no small 
use, yet because here we add nothing of our own, and only 
take naked forms from Demosthenes, Cicero, or other select 
authors, they may seem of too trivial a nature to spend time 
therein. 

EXAMPLES OF LESSER FORMS. 

A CONCLUSION IN THE DELIBERATIVE. 

So the past fault may be at once amended, and future 
inconvenience prevented. 

COROLLARY OF AN EXACT DIVISION. 

That all may see I would conceal nothing by silence, nor 
cloud anything by words. 

A TRANSITION, WITH A CAVEAT 

But let us leave the subject for the present, still reserving to 
ourselves the liberty of a retrospection. 

A PREPOSSESSION AGAINST AN INVETERATE OPINION. 

I will let you understand to the full ivhat sprung from the 
thing itself, what error has tacked to it, and what envy has 
raised upon it. 

And these few examples may serve to show our meaning 
as to the lesser forms of speech. r 

r Though the ancients may seem to have perfected rhetoric, yet the 
moderns have given it new light. Gerhord Vossius bestowed incredible 
pains upon this art, as appears by his book " De Natura et Constitu- 



CHAP. IV.] ART OF CRITICISM. 263 



CHAPTER IV. 

Two General Appendices to Tradition, viz., the Arts of 
Teaching and Criticism. 

There remain two general appendages to the doctrine of 
delivery ; the one relating to criticism, the other to school - 
learning. For as the principal part of traditive prudence 
turns upon the writing ; so its relative turns upon the read- 
ing of books. ISTow reading is either regulated by the 
assistance of a master, or left to every one's private industry ; 
but both depend upon criticism and school-learning. 

Criticism regards, first, the exact correcting and publish- 
ing of approved authors ; whereby the honour of such 
authors is preserved, and the necessary assistance afforded to 
the reader. Yet the misapplied labours and industry of 
some have in this respect proved highly prejudicial to learn- 
ing ; for many critics have a way, when they fall upon any- 
thing they do not understand, of immediately supposing a 
fault in the copy. Thus, in that passage of Tacitus, where a 
certain colony pleads a right of protection in the senate, 
Tacitus tells us they were not favourably heard ; so that the 
ambassadors distrusting their cause, endeavoured to procure 
the favour of Titus Vinius by a present, and succeeded : upon 
which Tacitus has these words : " Turn dignitas et antiquitas 
coloniae valuit :" "Then the honour and antiquity of the colony 
had weight," in allusion to the sum received. a But a consi- 
derable critic here expunges "turn," and substitutes "tan turn," 
which quite corrupts the sense. And from this ill practice 
of the critics, it happens that the most corrected copies are 
often the least correct. And to say the truth, unless a critic 

tione Rhetoricae ; " and still more by his " Institutions Oratories." 
See also Wolfgang ; Schoensleder's "Apparatus Eloquentiae ;" "Tesmari 
Exercitationes Rhetoricae," &c. Several French authors have likewise 
cultivated this subject; particularly Rapin, in his "Reflexions sur 
l'Eloquence ;" Bohour, in his " Maniere de bien Penser dans les Ouvrages 
de l'Esprit;" and his " Pensees Ingenieuses ;" Father Lamy, in his 
"Art de Parler." See also M. Cassander's French translation of 
Aristotle's Rhetorics ; the anonymous pieces, entitled, " L'Art de 
Penser," and "L'Art de Persuader ;" Le Clerc's " Historia Rhetoricae," 
in his " Ars Critica ;" and " Stollius de Arte Rhetoricas," in his " In- 
troductio in Historiam Literariam." JShaiv. 
a Hist. b. i. c. 66. 



264 ADVANCEMENT OF LEAENING. [BOOK VI. 

is well acquainted with, the sciences treated in the books he 
publishes, his diligence will be attended with danger. 

A second thing belonging to criticism is the explanation 
and illustration of authors, comments, notes, collections, &c. 
But here an ill custom has prevailed among the critics of 
skipping over the obscure passages, and expatiating upon 
such as are sufficiently clear, as if their design were not so 
much to illustrate their author, as to take all occasions of 
showing their own learning and reading. It were therefore 
to be wished, that every original writer who treats an obscure 
or noble subject, would add his own explanations to his own 
work, so as to keep the text continued and unbroken by 
digressions or illustrations, and thus prevent any wrong in- 
terpretation by the notes of others. 

Thirdly, there belongs to criticism the thing from whence 
its name is derived ; viz., a certain concise judgment or cen- 
sure of the authors published, and a comparison of them with 
other writers who have treated the same subject. "Whence 
the student may be directed in the choice of his books, and 
come the better prepared to their perusal ; and this seems to 
be the ultimate office of the critic, and has indeed been 
honoured by some greater men in our age than critics are 
usually thought. 

For the doctrine of school-learning, it were the shortest 
way to refer it to the Jesuits, who, in point of usefulness, 
have herein excelled ; yet we will lay down a few admoni- 
tions about it. We highly approve the education of youth 
in colleges, and not wholly in private houses or schools. 13 For 
in colleges, there is not only a greater emulation of the 
youth among their equals, but the teachers have a venerable 
aspect and gravity, which greatly conduces towards in- 
sinuating a modest behaviour, and the forming of tender 
minds from the first, according to such examples ; and be- 
sides these, there are many other advantages of a collegiate 
education. But for the order and manner of discipline, it is 
of capital use to avoid too concise methods and too hasty an 
opinion of learning, which give a pertness to the mind, and 
rather make a show of improvement than procure it. But 
excursions of genius are to be somewhat favoured ; so that 
if a scholar perform his usual exercises, he may be suffered 
b See Osborn's Advice to a Son. 






CHAP. IV.] PROPER CHOICE OF STUDIES. 265 

to steal time for other tilings whereto he is more inclined. 
It must also be carefully noted, though it has, perhaps, 
hitherto escaped observation, that there are two correspond- 
ent ways of enuring, exercising, and preparing the genius ; 
the one beginning with the easier, leads gradually on to more 
difficult things ; and the other, commanding and imposing 
such as are the harder at first ; so that when these are 
obtained, the easier may be more agreeably despatched. For 
it is one method to begin swimming with bladders, and 
another to begin dancing with loaded shoes. Nor is it easy 
to see how much a prudent intermixture of these two ways 
contributes to improve the faculties both of body and mind. 
Again, the suiting of studies to the genius is oi singular use: 
which masters should duly attend to, that the parent may 
thence consider what kind of life the child is fittest for. 
And further, it must be carefully observed, not only that 
every one makes much greater progress in those things 
whereto he is naturally inclined, but also, that there are cer- 
tain remedies in a proper choice of studies for particular 
indispositions of mind. For example, inattention and a 
volatility of genius may be remedied by mathematics, where- 
in, if the mind wander ever so little, the whole demonstration 
must be begun anew. Exercises, also, are of great efficacy 
in teaching, but few have observed that these should not only 
be prudently appointed, but prudently changed. For, as 
Cicero well remarks, "faults as well as faculties are generally 
exercised in exercises ;" whence a bad habit is sometimes 
acquired and insinuated together with a good one. It is 
therefore safer that exercises should be intermitted, and now 
and then repeated, than always continued and followed. 
These things, indeed, may at first sight appear light and 
trivial, yet they are highly effectual and advantageous. For 
as the great increase of the Homan empire has been justly 
attributed to the virtue and prudence of those six rulers, 
who had, as it were, the tuition of it in its youth, so proper 
discipline, in tender years, has such a power, though latent 
and unobserved, as neither time nor future labour can any 
way subdue in our riper age. It also deserves to be remarked, 
that even ordinary talents in great men, used on great occa- 
sions, may sometimes produce remarkable effects. And of 
this we will give an eminent instance, the rather because the 



266 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VI. 

Jesuits judiciously retain the discipline among them. And 
though the thing itself be disreputable in the profession of 
it, yet it is excellent as a discipline ; we mean the action of 
the theatre, which strengthens the memory, regulates the 
tone of the voice and the efficacy of pronunciation ; grace- 
fully composes the countenance and the gesture ; procures a 
becoming degree of assurance ; and lastly, accustoms youth 
to the eye of men. The example we borrow from Tacitus, 
of one Yibulenus, once a player, but afterwards a soldier in 
the Pannonian army. This fellow, upon the death of 
Augustus, raised a mutiny ; so that Blesus, the lieutenant, 
committed some of the mutineers ; but the soldiers broke 
open the prison and released them. Upon which, Vibulenus 
thus harangued the army : " You," says he, " have restored 
light and life to these poor innocents ; but who gives back 
life to my brother, or my brother to me ? He was sent to 
you from the German army for a common good, and that 
man murdered him last night, by the hands of his gladiators, 
whom he keeps about him to murder the soldiers. Answer, 
Blesus, where hast thou thrown his corpse ? Even enemies 
refuse not the right of burial. When I shall, with tears and 
embraces, have performed my duty to him, command me also 
to death ; but let our fellow-soldiers bury us, who are 
murdered only for our love to the legions." c With which 
words, he raised such a storm of consternation and revenge 
in the army, that unless the thing had presently appeared to 
be all a fiction, and that the fellow never had a brother, the 
soldiers might have murdered their leader ; but he acted the 
whole as a part upon the stage. And thus much for the 
logical sciences. 

We now come to that portion of our treatise which we 
have allotted to rational knowledge. Let no one, however, 
think that we hold the received division of the sciences of 
small account, because we have wandered out of the beaten 
paths. In so digressing we have been influenced by a 
twofold necessity, — First, to unite two methods, which 
both in their end and nature are altogether different, viz., 
the ranging in the same class those things which are na- 
turally related to each other, and to throw into one heap 
all those things which are likely to be called immediately 

c Annal. i. 22. 



BOOK VII.] A NEW DIVISION NECESSARY. 267 

into use. Thus, as a secretary of a prince or of some civil 
department ranges his papers according to their distinct 
heads, — treaties, instructions, foreign and domestic letters, 
— each occupying a separate corner of his study, and yet 
does not fail to collect in some particular cabinet those 
papers he is likely to use together, so in this general cabinet 
of knowledge we have selected our divisions according to the 
nature of things themselves; but if any particular science 
required to be treated at length, w r e have followed those 
divisions which are most conformable to use and practice. 
The second necessity arose from supplying the addenda to 
the sciences, and reducing them to an entire body, which 
completely changed the old boundaries. For, say that the 
existing arts are fifteen in number, and that the deficiencies 
increase the number to twenty, as the parts of fifteen are 
not the parts of twenty, two, four, and three being prime 
numbers in each, it is plain that a new division was forced 
upon us. 



SEVENTH BOOK. 



CHAPTER I. 

Ethics divided into the Doctrine of Models and the Georgics (Culture) 
of the Mind. Division of Models into the Absolute and Comparative 
Good. Absolute Good divided into Personal and National. 

"We next, excellent King, proceed to ethics, which has the 
human will for its subject. Reason governs the will, but 
apparent good seduces it : its motives are the affections, and 
its ministers the organs and voluntary motions. It is of this 
doctrine that Solomon says, " Keep thy heart with all dili- 
gence^ for out of it are the actions of life." The writers 
upon this science appear like writing-masters, who lay before 
their scholars a number of beautiful copies, but give them no 
directions how to guide their pen or shape their letters ; for 
so the writers upon ethics have given us shining draughts, 
descriptions, and exact images of goodness, virtue, duties, 
happiness, &c., as the true objects and scope of the human 

a Prov. iv. 23. 



268 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VII. 

will and desire; but for obtaining these excellent and well- 
described ends, or by what means the mind may be broke 
and fashioned for obtaining them, they either touch this sub- 
ject not at all or slightly. b We may dispute as much as we 
please, that moral virtues are in the human mind by habit, 
not by nature; that generous spirits are led by reason, but 
the herd by reward and punishment ; that the mind must be 
set straight, like a crooked stick, by bending it the contrary 
way, &c. c But nothing of this kind of glance-ancl-touch 
can in any way supply the want of the thing we are now in 
quest of. 

The cause of this neglect I take to be that latent rock 
whereon so many of the sciences have split, viz., the aversion 
that writers have to treat of trite and vulgar matters, which 
are neither subtle enough for dispute nor eminent enough 
ior ornament. It is not easy to see how great a misfortune 
hath proceeded hence, — that men, through natural pride and 
vain-glory, should choose such subjects and methods of treat- 
ing them, as may rather show their own capacities, than be 
of use to the reader. Seneca says excellently, " Eloquence is 
hurtful to those it inspires with a desire of itself, and not of 
things ;" d for writings should make men in love with the 
subject, and not with the writer. They, therefore, take the 
just course who can say of their counsels as Demosthenes 
did, — " If you put these things in execution, you shall not 
only praise the orator for the present, but yourselves also 
soon after, when your affairs are in a better posture." e As 
for myself, excellent King, to speak the truth, I have fre- 
quently neglected the glory of my order, name, and learning, 
both in the works I now publish and those which I have 
already designed to execute, in following out my direct pur- 
pose of advancing the happiness of mankind ; so that I may 
fairly say, though marked out by nature to be the architect 
of philosophy and the sciences, I have submitted to become 
a common workman and labourer, there being many mean 

b For the History of Morality, consult Scheurlius's " Bibliographia 
Moralis,"ed.l686; Placcius's "EpitomeBibliothecaaMoralis;" "Paschius 
de variis Moralia tradendi Modis Formisque," 1707 ; Barbeyrac's Preface 
to his French translation oi Puffendorf " De Jure Naturae et Gentium;" 
and " Stollii Introductio in Historian! Literariam/' pp. 692 — 752. Ed, 

c Arist. Ethics, ii. d Epist. 100, towards the end. 

e Olynthias 25, towards the end. 



CHAP. I.] ETHICS — THE NATURE OF GOOD. 269 

things necessary to the erection of the structure, which 
others, out of a natural disdain, refused to attend to. But 
in ethics the philosophers have culled out a certain splendid 
mass of matter, wherein they might principally show their 
force of genius or power of eloquence ; but for other things 
that chiefly conduce to practice, as they could not be so 
gracefully set off, they have entirely neglected them. Yet 
so many eminent men, surely, ought not to have despaired of 
a like success with Yirgil, who procured as much glory for 
eloquence, ingenuity, and learning, by explaining the homely 
observations of agriculture as in relating the heroic acts of 
iEneas, — 

" In ec sum animi dubius, verbis ea vincere magnum 
Quam sit, et angustis hunc addere rebus honorem."' 

And certainly, if men were bent, not upon writing at leisure 
what may be read at leisure, but really to cultivate and im- 
prove active life, the georgics of the mind ought to be as 
highly valued as those heroical portraits of virtue, goodness, 
and happiness wherein so much pains have been taken. 

We divide ethics into two principal doctrines, — the one of 
the model or image of good, the other of the regulation and 
culture of the mind, which I commonly express by the word 
georgics. The first describes the nature of good, and the 
other prescribes rules for conforming the mind to it. The 
doctrine of the image of good, in describing the nature of 
good, considers it either as simple or compounded, and either 
as to the kinds or degrees thereof. In the latter of these 
the Christian faith has at length abolished those infinite dis- 
putes and speculations as to the supreme degree of good, 
called happiness, blessedness, or the " summum bonum," 
which was a kind of heathen theology. For, as Aristotle 
said, "Youth might be happy, though only in hope;"s so, 
according to the direction of faith, we must put ourselves in 
the state of minors, and think of no other felicity, but that 
founded in hope. Being, therefore, thus delivered from this 
ostentatious heaven of the heathens, who, following Seneca, 
" Yere magnum habere fragilitatem hominis, securitatem 
Dei," h exaggerated the perfectibility of man's nature, — we 

f Georg. iii. 2S9. * Nic. Ethics, i. 10 ; Eliet. ii. 12, 8. 

h Epist. 53, § 12. 



270 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VII. 

may, with less offence to truth and sobriety, receive much 
of what they deliver about the image of good. As for the 
nature of positive and simple good, they have certainly drawn 
it beautifully and according to the life, in several pieces 
exactly representing the form of virtue and duty, — their 
order, kinds, relations, parts, subjects, provinces, actions, and 
dispensations. And all this they have recommended and 
insinuated to the mind with great vivacity and subtilty of 
argument, as well as sweetness of persuasion, at the same 
time faithfully guarding, as much as was possible by words, 
against depraved and popular errors and insults. And in 
deducing the nature of comparative good they have not been 
wanting, but appointed three orders thereof, — they have 
compared contemplative and active life together; 1 distin- 
guished between virtue with reluctance, and virtue secured 
and confirmed ; represented the conflict betwixt honour and 
advantage ; balanced the virtues, to show which overweighed, 
and the like, — so that this part of the image of good is 
already nobly executed ; and herein the ancients have shown 
wonderful abilities. Yet the pious and strenuous diligence 
of the divines, exercised in weighing and determining studies, 
moral virtues, cases of conscience, and fixing the bounds of 
sin, have greatly exceeded them. But if the philosophers, 
before they descended to the popular and received notions of 
virtue and vice, pain and pleasure, &c, had dwelt longer 
upon discovering the roots and fibres of good and evil, they 
would, doubtless, have thus gained great light to their sub- 
sequent inquiries, especially if they had consulted the nature 
of things, as well as moral axioms, they would have shortened 
their doctrines and laid them deeper. But as they have 
entirely omitted this or confusedly touched it, we will here 
briefly touch it over again, and endeavour to open and 
cleanse the springs of morality, before we come to the geor- 
gics of the mind, which we set down as deficient. 

All things are endued with an appetite to- two kinds of 
good, — the one as the thing is a whole in itself, the other as 
it is a part of some greater whole; and this latter is more 
worthy and more powerful than the other, as it tends to the 
conservation of a more ample form. The first may be called 

* See Arist. Eth. Nie. i. 3, sq. 



CHAP. I.] GOOD — INDIVIDUAL AMD SOCIAL. 271 

individual or self-good, and the latter, good of communion. 
Iron by a particular property moves to the loadstone, but if 
the iron be heavy, it drops its affection to the loadstone and 
tends to the earth, which is the proper region of such ponde- 
rous bodies. Again, though dense and heavy bodies tend to 
the earth, yet rather than nature will suffer a separation in 
the continuity of things, and leave a vacuum, as they speak, 
these heavy bodies will be carried upwards, and forego their 
affection to the earth, to perform their office to the world 
And thus it generally happens, that the conservation of the 
more general form regulates the lesser appetites. But this 
prerogative of the good of communion is more particularly 
impressed upon man, if he be not degenerate, according to 
that remarkable saying of Pompey, who, being governor of 
the city purveyance at a time of famine in Pome, and en- 
treated by his friends not to venture to sea whilst a violent 
storm was impending, answered, " My going is necessary, but 
not my life \ " k so that the desire of life, which is greatest in 
the individual, did not with him outweigh his affection and 
fidelity to the state. But no philosophy, sect, religion, law, 
or discipline, in any age, has so highly exalted the good of 
communion, and so far depressed the good of individuals, as 
the Christian faith ; whence it may clearly appear that one 
and the same God gave those laws of nature to the creatures 
and the Christian law to men. And hence we read that 
some of the elect and holy men, in an ecstasy of charity and 
impatient desire of the good of communion, rather wished 
their names blotted out of the book of life than that their 
brethren should miss of salvation. 1 

This being once laid down and firmly established, will put 
an end to some of the soberest controversies in moral philo- 
sophy. And first, it determines that question about the 
preference of a contemplative to an active life, against the 
opinion of Aristotle ; as all the reasons he produces for a 
contemplative life regard only private good, and the pleasure 
or dignity of an individual person, in which respects the 
contemplative life is doubtless best, and like the comparison 
made by Pythagoras, m to assert the honour and reputation 

k Plut. Life Pomp. ■ St. Paul, Eom. ix. 

m Jamblycus's life, in the Tus. Quaest. v. 3. Cicero substitutes Leon- 
tius, prince of the Phoenicians, for Hieron. 



272 ADVANCEMENT OF LEAHNING. [BOOK VII. 

of philosophy, when being asked by Hiero who he was, he 
answered, " I am a looker-on ; for as at the Olympic games 
some come to try for the prize, others to sell, others to meet 
their friends and be merry, but others again come merely as 
spectators, I am one of the latter." But men ought to know 
that in the theatre of human life it is only for God and 
angels to be spectators. Nor could any doubt about this 
matter have arisen in the Church, if a monastic life had been 
merely contemplative and unexercised in ecclesiastical duties, 
— as continual prayer, the sacrifice of vows, oblations to God, 
and the writing of theological books, for propagating the 
Divine law— as Moses retired in the solitude of the mount, 
and Enoch, the seventh from Adam, who, though the Scripture 
says he walked with God, intimating he was the first founder 
of the spiritual life, yet enriched the Church with a book of 
prophecies cited by St. Jude. But for a mere contemplative 
life, which terminates in itself, and sends out no rays either 
of heat or light into human society, theology knows it not. 

It also determines the question that has been so vehe- 
mently controverted between the schools of Zeno and So- 
crates on the one side, who placed felicity in virtue, simple 
or adorned, and many other sects and schools on the other, 
- — as particularly the schools of the Cyrenaics and Epicureans, 
who placed felicity in pleasure; 11 thus making virtue a mere 
handmaid, without which pleasure could not be well served. 
Of the same side is also that other school of Epicurus, as on 
the reformed establishment, which declared felicity to be 
nothing but tranquillity and serenity of mind. With these 
also joined the exploded school of Pyrrho and Herillus, who 
placed felicity in an absolute exemption from scruples, and 
the allowing no fixed and constant nature of good and evil, 
but accounting all actions virtuous or vicious, as they pro- 
ceed from the mind by a pure and undisturbed motion, or 
with aversion and reluctance. But it is plain that all things 
of this kind relate to private tranquillity and complacency 
of mind, and by no means to the good of communion. 

n For an account of these sects, consult Bitter's " Geschichte der 
Philosophic alter Zeit." 

° This opinion has been revived in the Anabaptist heresy, who mea- 
sure everything by the humours and instincts of the spirit and constancy 
or vacillation of faith. Ed. 



CHAP, i.] man's duty TO SOCIETY. 273 

Again, upon the foundation above laid we may confute 
tlie philosophy of Epictetus, which rests upon supposing feli- 
city placed in things within our power, lest we should other- 
wise be exposed to fortune and contingence.P as if it were not 
much happier to fail of success in just and honourable de- 
signs, when that failure makes for the public good, than to 
secure an uninterrupted enjoyment of those things which 
make only for our private fortune. Thus Gonsalvo at the 
head of his army, pointing to Naples, nobly protested he had 
much rather, by advancing a step, meet certain death, than 
by retiring a step prolong his life. And to this agrees the 
wise king, who pronounces " a good conscience to be a con- 
tinual feast ; ,,( i thereby signifying that the consciousness of 
good intentions, however unsuccessful, affords a joy more 
real, pure, and agreeable to nature, than all the other means 
that can be furnished, either for obtaining one's desires or 
quieting the mind. 

It likewise censures that abuse which prevailed about the 
time of Epictetus, when philosophy was turned into a cer- 
tain art or profession of life, as if its design were not to com- 
pose and quiet troubles, but to avoid and remove the causes 
and occasions thereof, whence a particular regimen was to be 
entered into for obtaining this end, by introducing such a 
kind of health into the mind as was that of Herodicus in the 
body, mentioned by Aristotle, 1 " whilst he did nothing all his 
life long but take care of his health, and therefore abstained 
from numberless things, which almost deprived him of the 
use of his body ; whereas, it men were determined to perform 
the duties of society, that kind of bodily health is most 
desirable which is able to suffer and support all sorts of 
attacks and alterations. In the same manner, that mind is 
truly sound and strong which is able to break through 
numerous and great temptations and disorders ; whence 
Diogenes seems to have justly commended the habit which 
did not warily abstain, but courageously sustain, 53 — which 
could check the sallies of the soul on the steepest precipice, 
and make it, like a well-broken horse, stop and turn at the 
shortest warning. 

Lastly, it reproves that delicacy and unsociable temper 

p Enchir. Arrian. i. * Pro v. xv. 15. r Ehet. i. 5, 10. 

s uvk^ov drrexov, Summa Stoic. Philos. 
2 T 



274 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VII. 

observed in some of the most ancient philosophers of great 
repute, who too effeminately withdrew from civil affairs, in 
order to prevent indignities and trouble to themselves, and 
live the more free and unspotted in their own opinions; as 
to which point the resolution of a true moralist should be 
such as Gonsalvo required of a soldier, — viz., " Not to weave 
his honour so fine, as for everything to catch and rend it." 



CHAPTER II. 

Division of Individual Good into Active and Passive. That of Passive 
Good into Conservative and Perfective. Good oi the Commonwealth 
divided into Geneial and Respective. 

We divide individual or self-good into active and passive. 
This difference of good is also found impressed upon the 
nature of all things, but principally shows itself in two appe- 
tites of the creatures; viz., — 1. That of self-preservation and 
defence; and, 2. That of multiplying and propagating. The 
latter, which is active, seems stronger and more worthy than 
the former, which is passive; for throughout the universe 
the celestial nature is the principal agent, and the terrestrial 
the patient; and in the pleasures of animals that of genera- 
tion is greater than that of feeding ; and the Scripture says, 
" It is more blessed to give than to receive." a And even in 
common life, no man is so soft and effeminate, as not to 
prefer the performing and perfecting of anything he had set 
his mind upon before sensual pleasures. The pre-eminence 
of active good is also highly exalted from the consideration 
of the state of mankind, which is mortal and subject to for- 
tune ; for if perpetuity and certainty could be had in human 
pleasures, this would greatly enhance them ; but as the case 
now stands, when we count it a happiness to die late, when 
we cannot boast of to-morrow, when we know not what a 
day may bring forth, no wonder if we earnestly endeavour 
after such things as elude the injuries of time : and these can 
be no other than our works. Accordingly it is said, " Their 
works follow them." b 

Another considerable pre-eminence of active good is given 

a Acts Ap. xx. 35. b Apoc. xiv. 13. 



i 



CHAP. II.] ACTIVE INDIVIDUAL GOOD. 275 

it, and supported by that inseparable affection of human 
nature — the love of novelty or variety. But this affection is 
greatly limited in the pleasures of the senses, which make 
the greatest part of passive good. To consider how often 
the same things come over in life, — as meals, sleep, and diver- 
sion, — it might make not only a resolute, a wretched, or a 
wise, but even a delicate person wish to die. c But in actions, 
enterprises, and desires, there is a remarkable variety, which 
we perceive with great pleasure, whilst we begin, advance, 
rest, go back to recruit, approach, obtain, <fcc. : whence it is 
truly said, " That life without pursuit is a vague and languid 
thing ;" d and this holds true both of the wise and unwise 
indifferently. So Solomon says, "Even a brain-sick man 
seeks to satisfy his desire, and meddles in everything." 6 And 
thus the most potent princes, who have all things at com- 
mand, yet sometimes choose to pursue low and empty de- 
sires, which they prefer to the greatest affluence of sensual 
pleasures: thus Nero delighted in the harp, Commodus in 
fencing, Antonius in racing, &c. So much more pleasing is 
it to be active than in possession ! 

It must, however, be well observed, that active, individual 
good differs entirely from the good of communion, notwith- 
standing they may sometimes coincide; for although this 
individual active good often produces works ot beneficence, 
which is a virtue of communion, yet herein they differ, that 
these works are performed by most men, not with a design 
to assist or benefit others, but wholly for their own gratifi- 
cation or honour, as plainly appears when active good falls 
upon anything contrary to the good of communion ; for that 
gigantic passion wherewith the great disturbers f of the world 
are carried away, as in the case of Sylla and others, who 
would render all their friends happy and all their enemies 
miserable, and endeavour to make the world carry their 
image, winch is really warring against heaven, — this passion, 
I say, aspires to an active individual good, at least in appear- 

c Seneca. d Seneca, Epist. xxiv. § 23—25. e Prov. xxi. 25. 
f So Barrow, "Sermon iii. on Redemption." There are some persons 
of that wicked and gigantic disposition, contracted by evil practice, that 
should one offer to instruct them in truth or move them to piety, would 
exclaim with Polyphemus — 

N?77rt6c tig, u> £av', r] tt}\69ev tiXrjXovQag, 
"Og fie Oeovg KtXsai i] SeidiiieVy ij akeaaOai, — Odyss. ix. 273. 
T2 



276 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VII. 

ance, though it be infinitely different from the good of com- 
munion. 

We divide passive good into conservative and perfective; 
for everything has three kinds of appetite with regard to its 
own individual good, — the first to preserve itself, the second 
to perfect itself, and the third to multiply and diffuse itself. 
The last relates to active good, of which we have spoken 
already; and of the other two the perfective is the most 
excellent ; for it is a less matter to preserve a thing in its 
state, and a greater to exalt its nature. But throughout the 
universe are found some nobler natures, to the dignity and 
excellence whereof inferior ones aspire, as to their origins ; — 
whence the poet said well of mankind, that " they have an 
ethereal vigour and a celestial origin:" 

" Igneus est ollis vigor et coelestis origo;" s 
for the perfection of the human form consists in approaching 
the Divine or angelic nature. The corrupt and preposterous 
imitation of this perfective good is the pest of human life, 
and the storm that overturns and sweeps away all things, 
whilst men, instead of a true and essential exaltation, fly 
with blind ambition only to a local one ; for as men in sickness 
toss and roll from place to place, as if by change of situation 
they could get away from themselves, or fly from the disease, 
so in ambition, men hurried away with a false imagination of 
exalting their own nature, obtain no more than change of 
place or eminence of post. 

Conservative good is the receiving and enjoying things 
agreeable to our nature; and this good, though it be the 
most simple and natural, yet of all others it seems the lowest 
and most effeminate. It is also attended with a difference, 
about which the judgment of mankind has been partly un- 
settled and the inquiry partly neglected ; for the dignity and 
recommendation of the good of fruition or pleasure, as it is 
commonly called, consists either in the reality or strength 
thereof, — the one being procured by uniformity, and the 
other by variety. The one has a less mixture of evil, the 
other a stronger and more lively impression of good : which 
of these is the best, is the question; but whether human 
nature be not capable of both at once, has not been exa- 
mined. 

s See Virgil, ^Eneid, vi. 730. 



CHAP. II.] FELICITY — IN WHAT PLACED. 277 

As for the question, it began to be debated between So- 
crates and a Sophist. Socrates asserted that felicity lay in 
a constant peace and tranquillity of mind, but the Sophist 
placed it in great appetite and great fruition. From reason- 
ing they fell to railing, when the Sophist said, the felicity of 
Socrates was the felicity of a stock or a stone ; Socrates, on 
the other hand, said, the felicity of the Sophist was the feli- 
city of one who is always itching and always scratching. 
And both opinions have their supporters; 11 for the school 
even of Epicurus, which allowed that virtue greatly con- 
duced to felicity, is on the side of Socrates; and if this be 
the case, certainly virtue is more useful in appeasing disor- 
ders than in obtaining desires. The Sophist's opinion is some- 
what favoured by the assertion above mentioned, viz., that 
perfective good is superior to conservative good, because 
every obtaining of a desire seems gradually to perfect nature, 
which though not strictly true, yet a circular motion has 
some appearance of a progressive one. 

As for the other point, whether human nature is not at 
the same time capable both of tranquillity and fruition, a 
just determination of it will render the former question un- 
necessary. And do we not often see the minds of men so 
framed and disposed, as to be greatly affected with present 
pleasures, and yet quietly suffer the loss of them ? — Whence 
that philosophical progression, " Use not, that you may not 
wish; wish not, that you may not fear," seems an indication 
of a weak, diffident, and timorous mind. And, indeed, most 
doctrines of the philosophers appear to be too distrustful, 
and to take more care of mankind than the nature of the 
thing requires. Thus they increase the fears of death by the 
remedies they bring against it; for whilst they make the 
life of man little more than a preparation and discipline for 
death, it is impossible but the enemy must appear terrible, 
when there is no end of the defence to be made against him. 
The poet did better for a heathen, who placed the end of 
life among the privileges of nature, — 

" Qui spatium vitse extremum inter munera ponat 
Naturae." 1 

Thus the philosophers, in all cases, endeavour to render 

the mind too uniform and harmonical, without enuring it to 

h Plato, Gorgias, i. 492. l Juvenal, Sat. x. 360. 



278 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VII. 

extreme and contrary motions; and the reason seems to be, 
that they give themselves up to a private life, free from dis- 
quiet and subjection to others; whereas men should rather 
imitate the prudence of a lapidary, who, finding a speck or 
a cloud in a diamond, that may be ground out without too 
much waste, takes it away, or otherwise leaves it untouched ; 
and so the serenity of the mind is to be consulted without 
impairing its greatness. And thus much for the doctrine of 
self-good. 

The good of communion, which regards society, usually 
goes by the name of duty, a word that seems more properly 
used of a mind well disposed towards others ; whilst the term 
virtue is used of a mind well formed and composed within 
itself. Duty, indeed, seems at first to be of political consi- 
deration ; but if thoroughly weighed, it truly relates to the 
rule and government of one's self, not others. And as in 
architecture it is one thing to fashion the pillars, rafters, and 
other parts of the building, and prepare them for the work, 
and another to fit and join them together, so the doctrine 
of uniting mankind in society differs from that which ren- 
ders them conformable and well affected to the benefits of 
society. 

This part concerning duties is likewise divided into two, 
— the one treating of the duties of man in common, and the 
other of respective duties, according to the profession, voca- 
tion, state, person, and degree of particulars. k The first of 
these, we before observed, has been sufficiently cultivated 
and explained by the ancient and later writers. The other 
also has been touched here and there, though not digested 
and reduced into any body of science. 1 We do not, however, 
except to its being treated piecemeal, as judging it the best 
way to write upon this subject in separate parts; for who 
will pretend he can justly discourse and define upon the 
peculiar and relative duties of all orders and conditions of 

k For the modern writers in this way, see Morhof 's " Polyhistor," torn, 
iii. lib. i. " De Philosophise moralis Scriptoribus ; " and " Stollii Intro- 
ductio in Historian! Literariam, de Philosophia generatim morali ; " in 
particular, consult Puffendorf, " De Officio Hominis and Civis." Shaw. 

1 This appears to be attempted by Grotius, in his book " De Jure Belli 
ac Pacis ; and by Puffendorf, in his " De Jure Naturse et Gentium." 
See M. Bart)eyrac's translation of the latter into French, with annota- 
tions. Shaw. 



CHAP. II.] PRAISE OP THE IKON BASILICON. 279 

men ? But for treatises upon this subject, which have no 
tincture of experience, and are only drawn from general and 
scholastic knowledge, they commonly prove empty and use- 
less performances; for though a bystander may sometimes 
see what escaped the player, and although it be a kind of 
proverb, more bold and true with regard to prince and 
people, " that a spectator in the valley takes the best view 
of a mountain," yet it were greatly to be wished that none 
but the most experienced men would write upon subjects of 
this kind; for the contemplations of speculative men in 
active matters appear no better to those who have been con- 
versant in business than the dissertations of Phormio upon 
war appeared to Hannibal, who esteemed them but as 
dreams and dotage. One fault, however, dwells with such 
as write upon things belonging to their own office or art, 
viz., that they hold no mean in recommending and extolling 
them. 

lu speaking of books of this kind, it would indeed be 
sacrilege in me to omit mention of your Majesty's excellent 
work on the duty of a king. This work incloses the leading 
treasures of divinity, politics, and ethics, besides a sprinkling 
ot all other arts; and I am not afraid to pronounce it one of 
the soundest and most profitable works I have ever read. 
It does not swell with the heat of invention, or flag with the 
coldness of negligence. The author is nowhere seized with 
that dizziness which confuses his sight of the main subject, 
and consequently avoids those digressions which, by a sort of 
circuitous method, descants on matter foreign to the purpose. 
Neither are its pages disfigured with the arts of rhetorical 
perfumes and paintings, designed rather to please the reader 
than to corroborate the argument. But they contain life 
and spirit, as well as solidity and bulk, containing excellent 
precepts, adapted as well to theoretical truth as to the expe- 
diency of use and action. The work is also entirely exempt 
from that vice even more censured, and which, if it were 
tolerable, it were so in kings, and in works on regal majesty, 
viz., that it does not exaggerate the privileges of the crown 
or invidiously exalt their power. For your Majesty has not 
described a king of Persia or Assyria, shining forth in all 
their pomp and glory, but a Moses and a David, pastors as 
well as rulers of their people. ]STor can I forget that memor- 



280 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VII. 

able saying which, your Majesty delivered on an important 
point of judicature, — That kings rule by the laws of their 
kingdoms, as God by the laws of nature, and ought as rarely 
to exercise their prerogative, which transcends law, as God 
exercises his power of working miracles. And in your Ma- 
jesty's other book on a free monarchy, you give all men to 
understand that your Majesty knows and comprehends the 
plenitude of the regal power, as well as its limits; I, there- 
fore, have not shrunk from citing this book as one of the 
best treatises ever published upon particular and respective 
duties. I can also assure your Majesty, that had the book been 
a thousand years in existence it would not have lost any of 
the praises I have bestowed upon it; nor am I prescribed 
by the adage which forbids praise in presence; since this 
rule of decorum applies only to unseasonable and excessive 
eulogy. Surely Cicero, in his excellent oration in defence of 
Marcellus, is only bent upon drawing a picture with singular 
art, of Caesar's virtues, though in his presence, as the second 
Pliny did for Trajan. But let us proceed with our subject. 

To this part of the respective duties of vocations and par- 
ticular professions belongs another, as a doctrine relative or 
opposite to it, viz., the doctrine of cautions, frauds, impos- 
tures, and their vices; for corruptions and vices are opposite 
to duties and virtues ; not but some mention is already made 
of them in writings, though commonly but cursorily and sati- 
rically, rather than seriously and gravely; for more labour is 
bestowed in invidiously reprehending many good and useful 
things in arts and exposing them to ridicule, than in sepa- 
rating what is corrupt and vicious therein from what is 
sound and serviceable. Solomon says excellently, " A scorner 
seeks wisdom, and finds it not ; but knowledge is easy to him 
that understands;" 111 for whoever comes to a science with an 
intent to deride and despise, will doubtless find things 
enough to cavil at, and few to improve by. But the serious 
and prudent treatment of the subject we speak of may be 
reckoned among the strongest bulwarks ol virtue and pro- 
bity; for as it is fabulously related of the basilisk, that if he 
sees a man first, the man presently dies; but if the man has 
the first glance, he kills the basilisk : so frauds, impostures, 
and tricks do not hurt, if first discovered ; but if they strike 

m Prov. xiv. 6. 



CHAP. II.] CIVIL AND SOCIAL OBLIGATIONS. 281 

first, it is then they become dangerous, and not otherwise : 
hence we are beholden to Machiavel, and writers of that 
kind, who openly and unmasked declare what men do in 
fact, and not what they ought to do ; n for it is impossible to 
join the wisdom of the serpent and the innocence of the 
dove, without a previous knowledge of the nature of evil; as 
without this, virtue lies exposed and unguarded. And far- 
ther, a good and just man cannot correct and amend tlie 
vicious and the wicked, unless he has first searched into all 
the depths and dungeons of wickedness; for men of a cor- 
rupt and depraved judgment ever suppose that honesty pro- 
ceeds from ignorance, or a certain simplicity of manners, and 
is rooted only in a belief of our tutors, instructors, books, 
moral precepts, and vulgar discourse ; whence, — unless they 
plainly perceive that their perverse opinions, their corrupt 
and distorted principles, are thoroughly known to those who 
exhort and admonish them as well as to themselves, — they 
despise all wholesome advice; according to that admirable 
saying of Solomon, " A fool receives not the words of the 
wise, unless thou speakest the very things that are in his 
heart." And this part of morality, concerning cautions and 
respective vice, we set down as wanting, under the name of 
sober satire, or the insides of things. 

To the doctrine of respective duties belong also the 
mutual duties between husband and wife, parent and child, 
master and servant, as also the laws of friendship, gratitude, 
and the civil obligations of fraternities, colleges, neighbour- 
hoods, and the like, always understanding that these things 
are to be treated, not as parts of civil society, in which view 
they belong to politics, but so far as the minds of particulars 
ought to be instructed and disposed to preserve these bonds 
of society. 

The doctrine of the good of communion, as well as of self- 
good, treats good not only simply, but comparatively, and 
thus regards the balancing of duty betwixt man and man, 
case and case, private and public, present and future, &c., — 

n Perhaps the treatise of Hieron. Cardan "De Arcanis Prudentiae 
Civilis," is a capital performance in this way ; as exposing numerous 
tricks, frauds, and stratagems of government, so as to prevent the 
honest-minded from being imposed upon by them. Shaw. 

° Prov. xviii. 2. 



282 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VII. 

as we may observe in the cruel conduct of Lucius Brutus to 
his own sons, which by the generality was extolled to the 
skies; yet another said, 

" Infelix, utcunque ferent ea facta minores."P 
So in the discourse betwixt Brutus, Cassius, and others, as 
to the conspiracy against Caesar, the question was artfully 
introduced whether it were lawful to kill a tyrant;^ the 
company divided in their opinions about it, some saying it 
was lawful, and that slavery was the greatest of evils ; others 
denying it, and asserting tyranny to be less destructive than 
civil war ; whilst a third kind, as if followers of Epicurus, 
made it an unworthy thing that wise men should endanger 
themselves for fools. But the cases of comparative duties 
are numerous, among which this question frequently occurs, 
whether justice may be strained for the safety of one's coun- 
try, or the like considerable good in future ? as to which 
Jason the Thessalian used to say, Some things must be done 
unjustly, that many more may be done justly. But the 
answer is ready, — Present justice is in our power, but of 
future justice we have no security : let men pursue those 
things which are good and just at present, and leave futurity 
to Divine providence. 1 And thus much for the doctrine of 
the image of good. s 



CHAPTER III. 

The Culture of the Mind divided into the Knowledge of Characteristic 
Differences of Affections, of Remedies and Cures. Appendix relating 
to the Harmony between the Pleasures of the Mind and the Body. 

We next proceed to the cultivation of the mind, without 
which the preceding part of morality is no more than an 

p Virg. JEn. vi. 823. * Plut. Life Brut. 

r Plutarch, Moral. Prsec. Gerencl. Reip. i. 24. 

8 Such was the pretext of Titus Quint ius Flaminius, who, per- 
ceiving that the Acha?an league, by which all the Grecian states were 
associated in one grand confederation, imposed the principal obstacle to 
the arms of Rome, deceitfully alleged that his sole design was to free 
each individual state from the thraldom of one dominant power, and 
leave it to the action of its own laws. The sequel showed, however, that 
his policy was only an exemplification of the old fable, for the untying 
the bundle was immediately followed by the subjugation of each 
community. Ed, 



CHAP. III.] ETHICS SUBSERVIENT TO THEOLOGY. 283 

image or beautiful statue, without life or motion. Aristotle 
expressly acknowledges as much, — " It is, therefore, neces- 
sary," says he, " to speak of virtue, what it is, and whence it 
proceeds ; for it were in a manner useless to know virtue, 
and yet be ignorant of the ways to acquire her." a Concern- 
ing virtue, therefore, we must ascertain both what kind it is 
and by what means it may be acquired ; for we desire a know- 
ledge of the thing itself and the manner of procuring its 
pleasures. 11 And though he has more than once repeated the 
same thing, yet himself does not pursue it. And so Cicero 
gives it as a high commendation to the younger Cato, that 
he embraced philosophy, not for the sake of disputing, as 
most do, but of living philosophically. And though at pre- 
sent few have any great regard to the cultivation and dis- 
cipline of the mind and a regular course of life, as Seneca 
phrases it, — u De partibus vitse quisque deliberat, de summa 
nemo," d — whence this part may appear superfluous, yet we 
cannot be persuaded to leave it untouched, but rather con- 
clude with the aphorism of Hippocrates, that those who 
labour under a violent disease, yet seem insensible of their 
pain, are disordered in their mind. And men in this case 
want not only a method of cure, but a particular remedy, to 
bring them to their senses. If any one shall object, that the 
cure of the mind is the office of divinity, we allow it ; yet 
nothing excludes moral philosophy from the train of theo- 
logy, whereto it is as a prudent and faithful hand-maid, 
attending and administering to all its wants. But though, 
as the Psalmist observes, " the eyes of the maid are per- 
petually waiting on the hands of the mistress," e yet doubtless 
many things must be left to the care and judgment of the 
servant. So ethics ought to be entirely subservient to theo- 
logy, and obedient to the precepts thereof, though it may 
still contain many wholesome and useful instructions within 
its own limits. And therefore, when we consider the 
excellence of this part of morality, we cannot but greatly 
wonder it is not hitherto reduced to a body of doctrine, 
which we are obliged to note as deficient ; and shall there- 
fore give some sketch for supplying it. 

And first, as in all cases of practice, we must here dis- 

a Eth. Mag. ad init. b Mag. Moral, i. c Juv. Muraen. xxx. 62, 

d Epist. lxxi. § 1. e Psal. cxxii. 3. 



284 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VII. 

tinguish tlie tilings in our power, and those that are not : 
for the one may be altered, whilst the other can only be 
applied. Thus the farmer has no command over the nature 
of the soil, or the seasons of the year ; nor the physician 
over the constitution of the patient, or the variety of acci- 
dents. In the cultivation of the mind, and the cure of its 
diseases, there are three things to be considered ; viz., 1. the 
different dispositions ; 2. the affections ; and 3. the reme- 
dies : answering in physic to the constitution, the distemper, 
and the medicines. And of these three, only the last is in 
our power. Yet we ought as carefully to inquire into the 
tilings that are not in our power, as into those that are; 
because a clear and exact knowledge thereof is to be made 
the foundation of the doctrine of remedies, in order to their 
more commodious and successful application. For clothes 
cannot be made to fit, unless measure of the body be first 
taken. 

The first article, therefore, of the culture of the mind, will 
regard the different natures or dispositions of men. But 
here we speak not of the vulgar propensities to virtues and 
vices, or perturbations and passions, but of such as are more 
internal and radical. And I cannot sometimes but wonder 
that this particular should be so generally neglected by the 
writers both of morality and politics ; whereas it might 
afford great light to both these sciences. In astrological tra- 
ditions, the natures and dispositions of men are tolerably dis- 
tinguished according to the influences of the planets ; whence 
some are said to be by nature formed for contemplation, 
others for politics, others for war, &c. So, likewise, among 
the poets of all kinds, we everywhere find characters of 
natures, though commonly drawn with excess, and exceeding 
the limits of nature. And this subject of the different 
characters of dispositions is one of those things wherein the 
common discourse of men is wiser than books — a thing 
which seldom happens. But much the best matter of all for 
such a treatise may be derived from the more prudent his- 
torians ; and not so well from elogies or panegyrics, which 
are usually written soon after the death of an illustrious per- 
son, but much rather from a whole body of history, as often 
as such a person appears : for such an interwoven aeeount 
gives a better description than panegyric. And such ex- 



CHAP. III.] OUTLINES OF INDIVIDUAL CHARACTER. 285 

amples we have in Livy, of Africanus and Cato ; in Tacitus, 
of Tiberius, Claudius, and Kero ; in Herodian, of Septimius 
Severus ; in Philip de Comines, of Lewis the Eleventh ; in 
Guicciardine, of Ferdinand of Spain, the Emperor Maximilian, 
Pope Leo, and Pope Clement. For these writers having the 
image of the person to be described constantly before them, 
scarce ever mention any of their acts, but at the same time 
introduce something of their natures. So, likewise, some 
relations which we have seen of the conclaves at Rome give 
very exact characters of the cardinals : as the letters of 
ambassadors do of the counsellors of princes. Let, therefore, 
an accurate and full treatise be wrote upon this fertile and 
copious subject. But we do not mean, that these characters 
should be received in ethics as perfect civil images, but 
rather as outlines, and first draughts of the images them- 
selves, which, being variously compounded and mixed one 
among another, afford all kinds of portraits. So that an 
artificial and accurate dissection may be made of men's minds 
and natures, and the secret disposition of each particular 
man laid open, that, from a knowledge of the whole, the 
precepts concerning the cures of the mind may be more 
rightly formed. f 

And not only the characters of dispositions impressed by 
nature should be received into this treatise, but those also 
which are otherwise imposed upon the mind by the sex, age, 
country, state of health, make of body, &c. And again, 
those which proceed from fortune, as in princes, nobles, com- 
mon people, the rich, the poor, magistrates, the ignorant, the 
happy, the miserable, &c. Thus we see Plautus makes it a 
kind of miracle to find an old man beneficent. 

" Benignitas quidem hujus oppidb ut adolescentuli est."? 
And St. Paul, commanding a severity of disciphne towards 
the Cretans, accuses the temper of that nation from the poet : 

f Compare "Les Caracteres des Passions," par M. de la Chambre, ed. 
Amst. 1658; M. Clarmont, "De Conjectandis latentibus Animi Affecti- 
bus," reprinted by Conringius ; "Neuheusii Theatrum Ingenii humani, 
seu de Hominum cognoscenda Indole et Animi Secret is," 1633 ; Mr. 
Evelyn's digression concerning Physiognomy, in his Discourse of Medals ; 
" Les Caracteres de Theophraste, avec les Mceurs de ce Siecle," par 
M. de la Bruyere, 1700. See " Stollii Introductio in Historiam Litera- 
riam," p. 823. See also more to this purpose above, sect. iv. £d, 

is Miles Gloriosus, act 3, sc. i. v. 39. 



286 ADVANCEMENT OF LEAKNING. [BOOK VII. 

"The Cretans are always liars, evil beasts, and slow bellies." h 
Sallust notes it of the temper of kings, that it is frequent 
with them to desire contradictories : — " Plerumque regise 
voluntates, ut vehementes sunt ; sic mobiles, ssepeque ipsse 
sibi adverse." 1 Tacitus observes, that u honours and digni- 
ties commonly change the temper of mankind for the worse." 
" Solus Vespasianus mutatus in melius.' k Pindar remarks 
that " a sudden flush of good fortune generally enervates and 
slackens the mind." 

" Sunt qui magnam felicitatem concoquere non possunt." 1 
The psalmist intimates, that it is easier to hold a mean in 
the height, than in the increase of fortune : — " If riches 
fly to thee, set not thy heart upon them." m It is true, 
Aristotle, in his Rhetorics, cursorily mentions some such 
observations; and so do others up and down in their 
writings : but they were never yet incorporated into moral 
philosophy, whereto they principally belong, as much as 
treatises of the difference of the soil and glebe belong to 
agriculture, or discourses of the different complexions or 
habits of the body to medicine. The thing must, therefore, 
be now procured, unless we would imitate the rashness of 
empirics, who employ the same remedies in all diseases and 
constitutions. 

Next to this doctrine of characters follows the doctrine of 
affections and perturbations, which, we observed above, are 
the diseases of the mind. For as the ancient politicians said 
of democracies, that " the people were like the sea, and the 
orators like the wind ;" so it may be truly said, that the 
nature of the mind would be unruffled and uniform, if the 
affections, like the winds, did not disturb it. And here, 
again, we cannot but remember that Aristotle, who wrote so 
many books of ethics, should never treat of the affections, 
which are a principal branch thereof; and yet has given 
them a place in his Rhetorics, where they come to be but 
secondarily considered : n for his discourses of pleasure and 
pain by no means answer the ends of such a treatise, no 
more than a discourse of light and splendour would give the 
doctrine of particular colours : for pleasure and pain are to 

h Epist. Tit. i. 12. l Jugurtha, i. 50. k Hist. i. 53, towards the end. 

1 Or, KaTcnrtyai fxeyav 6\€ov ovic tdvvaaOi]. — Olymp. i. 55. 

m Psalm lxi. 11. n See b. ii. and ci Eth. Nic. ii. 4, 1. 



CHAP. III.J MANAGEMENT OF THE AFFECTIONS. 287 

particular affections, as light is to colours. The Stoics, so far 
as may be conjectured from what we have left oi them, cul- 
tivated this subject better, yet they rather dwelt upon sub- 
tile definitions than gave any full and copious treatise upon 
it. We also find a few short elegant pieces upon some of 
the affections; as upon anger, false modesty, and two or three 
more ; but to say the truth, the poets and historians are the 
principal teachers of this science ; for they commonly paint 
to the life in what particular manner the affections are to 
be raised and inflamed, and how to be soothed and laid ; how 
they are to be checked and restrained from breaking into 
action ; how they discover themselves, though suppressed 
and smothered ; what operations they have ; what turns they 
take ; how they mutually intermix ; and how they oppose 
each other, &c. Among which, the latter is of extensive use 
in moral and civil affairs ; I mean, how far one passion may 
regulate another, and how they employ each other's assist- 
ance to conquer some one, after the manner of hunters and 
fowlers, who take beast with beast, and bird with bird ; 
which man, perhaps, without such assistance, could not so 
easily do. And upon this foundation rests that excellent 
and universal use of rewards and punishments in civil life. 
For these are the supports of states, and suppress all the 
other noxious affections by those two predominant ones, fear 
and hope. And, as in civil government, one faction fre- 
quently bridles and governs another ; the case is the same in 
the internal government of the mind. P 

We come now to those things which are within our own 
power, and work upon the mind, and affect and govern the 
will and the appetite ; whence they have great efficacy in 
altering the manners. And here philosophers should dili- 
gently inquire into the powers and energy of custom, exer- 
cise, habit, education, example, imitation, emulation, com- 
pany, friendship, praise, reproof, exhortation, reputation, 

° See Butler's " Analogy," chap, on rewards and punishments. 

P See " Laelius Peregrinus de noscendis et emendandis Animi Affec- 
tionibus," ed. Lipsise, 1714 ; "Placcius de Typo Medicinse moralis;" 
M. Perault, " De l'Usage des Passions," 1668 ; " Johan. Francisc. 
Buddieus de Morbis mentis humanse, de Sanitate mentis humanse, et de 
Remediis morborum, quibus mens laborat," in his " Elementa Philoso- 
phise Practicae," lib. de Philosophia morali, sect. iii. cap. 3, 4, 6. 
See " Stollii Introduct. in Historiam Literariam," pp. 813, 814. Shaw. 



288 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VII. 

laws, books, studies, &c. ; for these are tlie tilings which reign 
in men's morals. By these agents the mind is formed and 
subdued ; and of these ingredients remedies are prepared, 
which, so far as human means can reach, conduce to the 
preservation and recovery of the health of the mind. 

To give an instance or two in custom and habit, the opi- 
nion of Aristotle seems narrow and careless, which asserts 
that " custom has no power over those actions which are 
natural;^" using this example, that if a stone be a thousand 
times thrown up into the air, yet it will acquire no tendency 
to a spontaneous ascent. And again, that " by often seeing 
or hearing, we see and hear never the better." For though 
this may hold in some things, where nature is absolute, yet 
it is otherwise in things where nature admits intension and 
remission in a certain latitude. He might have seen, that a 
strait glove, by being often drawn upon the hand, will 
become easy ; that a stick, by use and continuance, will 
acquire and retain a bend contrary to its natural one ; that 
the voice, by exercise, becomes stronger and more sonorous ; 
that heat and cold grow more tolerable by custom, &c. And 
these two last examples come nearer to the point than those 
he has produced. Be this as it will, the more certain he had 
found it that virtues and vices depended upon habit, the 
more he should have endeavoured to prescribe rules how 
such habits were to be acquired or left off; since numerous 
precepts may be formed for the prudent directing of exer- 
cises, as well those of the mind as the body. We will here 
mention a few of them. 

And the first shall be, that from the beginning we beware 
of imposing both more difficult, and more superficial tasks 
than the thing requires. For if too great a burden be laid 
upon a middling genius, it blunts the cheerful spirit of hope ; 
and if upon a confident one, it raises an opinion, from which 
he promises himself more than he can perform, which leads 
to indolence ; and in both cases the experiment will not 
answer expectation. And this always dejects and confounds 
the mind. But if the tasks are too light, a great loss is 
sustained in the amount of the progress. 

Secondly, to procure a habit in the exercise of any faculty, 
let two seasons be principally observed : the one when the 
9 Nicom. Eth. ii. last ch. 



CHAP. III.] FORMATION OF HABITS. 289 

mind is best, and the other when it is worst disposed for 
business ; that by the former, the greater despatch may be 
made ; and by the latter, the obstructions of the mind may 
be borne down with a strenuous application ; whence the 
intermediate times slide away the more easily and agreeably. 

The third example shall be the precept which Aristotle 
transiently mentions ; viz., to endeavour our utmost against 
that whereto we are strongly impelled by nature ; thus, as 
it were, rowing against the stream, or bending a crooked 
stick the contrary way, in order to bring it straight. 1 * 

A fourth precept may be founded on this sure principle ; 
that the mind is easier, and more agreeably drawn on to 
those things which are not principally intended by the 
operator, but conquered or obtained without premeditated 
design, because our nature is such, as in a manner hates to 
be commanded. There are many other useful precepts for 
the regulating of custom ; and if custom be prudently and 
skill ally introduced, it really becomes a second nature ; but 
if unskilfully and casually treated, it will be but the ape of 
nature, and imitate nothing to the life, or awkwardly, and 
with deformity. 

So, with regard to books, studies, and influence over our 
manners, there are numerous useful rules and directions. 
One of the fathers, in great severity, called poetry the devil's 
wine \ as indeed it begets many temptations, desires, and 
vain opinions. And it is a very prudent saying of Aristotle, 
deserving to be well considered, that " young men are im- 
proper hearers of moral philosophy," s because the heat of 
their passions is not yet allayed and tempered by time and 
experience. And to say the truth, the reason why the 
excellent writings and moral discourses of the ancients have 
so little effect upon our lives and manners, seems to be, that 
they are not usually read by men of ripe age and judgment, 
but wholly left to un experienced youths and children. And 
are not young men much less fit for politics than for ethics, 
before they are well seasoned with religion, and the doctrines 
of morality and civility? For being, perhaps, depraved and cor- 
rupted in their judgment, they are apt to think that moral 
differences are not real and solid ; but that all things are to 
be measured by utility and success. Thus the poet said, 

r Nicom. Eth. ii. 95, towards the end. s Nic. Eth. i. 15. 

2 u 



290 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VII. 

" Successful villany is called virtue" — " Prosperuni et felix 
scelus, virtus vocatur." fc And again, " Ille cruceni pretium 
sceleris tulit, hie diadema." 11 The poets, indeed, speak 
in this manner satirically, and through indignation ; but 
some books of politics suppose the same positively, and 
in earnest. For Machiavel is pleased to say, " if Cassar had 
been conquered, he would have become more odious than 
Catiline :" as if there was no difference, except in point of 
fortune, betwixt a fury made up of lust and blood, and a 
noble spirit, of all natural men the most to be admired, but 
for his ambition. And hence we see how necessary it is for 
men to be fully instructed in moral doctrines and religious 
duties, before they proceed to politics. For those bred up 
from their youth in the courts of princes, and the midst of 
civil affairs, can scarce ever obtain a sincere and internal 
probity of manners. Again, caution also is to be used even 
in moral instructions, or at least in some of them, lest men 
should thence become stubborn, arrogant, and unsociable. 
So Cicero says of Cato : " The divine and excellent qualities 
we see in him are his own ; but the things he sometimes fails 
in are all derived, not from nature, but his instructors." x 
There are many other axioms and directions concerning the 
things which studies and books beget in the minds of men ; 
for it is true that studies enter our manners, and so do con- 
versation, reputation, the laws, &c. 

But there is another cure of the mind, which seems still 
more accurate and elaborate than the rest ; depending upon 
this foundation, that the minds of all men are, at certain 
times, in a more perfect, and at others in a more depraved 
state. The design of this cure is, therefore, to improve the 
good times, and expunge the bad. There are two practical 
methods of fixing the good times ; viz., 1. determined reso- 
lutions ; and 2. observances or exercises ; which are not of 
so much significancy in themselves, as because they conti- 
nually keep the mind in its duty. There are also two ways 
of expunging the bad times ; viz., by some kind of redemp- 
tion, or expiation of what is past, and a new regulation of 
life for the future. But this part belongs to religion, whereto 

1 Seneca, Here. Fur. v. 251. u Juv. Sat. xiii. 105. 

x Pro L. Muraena, 39. 



CHAP. III.] ENDS TO BE JUST AND HOXOUPwABLE. 291 

moral philosophy is, as we said before, the genuine hand- 
maid. 

We will therefore conclude these ge orgies of the mind 
with that remedy which of all others is the shortest, noblest, 
and most effectual for forming the mind to virtue, and 
placing it near a state of perfection ; viz., that we choose 
and propose to ourselves just and virtuous ends of our lives 
and actions, yet such as we have in some degree the faculty 
of obtaining. For if the ends of our actions are good and 
virtuous, and the resolutions of our mind for obtaining them 
fixed and constant, the mind will directly mould and form 
itself at once to all kinds of virtue. And this is certainly an 
operation resembling the works of nature, whilst the others 
above mentioned seem only manual. Thus the statuary 
finishes only that part ot the figure upon which his hand is 
employed, without meddling with the others at that time, 
which are still but unfashioned marble; whereas nature, on 
the contrary, when she works upon a flower or an animal, 
forms the rudiments of all the parts at onceJ So when 
virtues are acquired by habit, whilst we endeavour at tem- 
perance, we make but little advances towards fortitude or 
the other virtues ; but when we are once entirely devoted to 
just and honourable ends, whatever the virtue be which 
those ends recommend and direct, we shall find ourselves 
ready disposed, and possessed of some propensity to obtain 
and express it. And this may be that state of mind which 
Aristotle excellently describes, not as virtuous, but divine. 2 
His words are these : — " "We may contrast humanity with 
that virtue which is above it, as being heroic and divine."' 
And a little farther on : — " For as savage creatures are in- 
capable of vice or virtue, so is the Deity." For the divine 
state is above virtue, which is only the absence of vice. So 
Pliny proposes the virtue of Trajan, not as an imitation, but 

7 Harvey, who was Bacon's physician, and the most celebrated 
anatomist of his day, contradicts this doctrine, affirming that nature 
operates like man by production and elaboration of parts. Ed. 

z " Humanitati autem consentaneum est opponere earn quae supra 
humanitatem est heroicam sive divinam virtutem ; " and a little after, 
" Nam ut ferae neque vitium neque virtus est, hie neque Dei : sed hie qui- 
dem status altius quiddam virtute est, ille aliud quiddam a vitio." — 
Nic. Ethics, vii. 1. Ed. 

U2 



292 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VII. 

as an example of the divine virtue, when he says, " Men 
need make no other prayers to the gods than that they 
would be but as good and propitious to morals as Trajan 
was." a But this savours of the profane arrogance of the 
heathens, who grasped at shadows larger than the life. The 
Christian religion comes to the point, by impressing charity 
upon the minds of men ; which is most appositely called the 
bond of perfection^ because it ties up and fastens all the 
virtues together. And it was elegantly said by Menander of 
sensual love, which is a bad imitation of the divine, that it 
was a better tutor for human life than a left-handed sophist ) 
intimating that the grace of carriage is better formed by love 
than by an awkward preceptor, whom he calls left-handed, as 
he cannot by all his operose rules and precepts, form a man 
so dexterously and expeditiously, to value himself justly, and 
behave gracefully, as love can do. So, without doubt, if the 
mind be possessed with the fervour of true charity, he will 
rise to a higher degree of perfection than by all the doctrine 
of ethics, which is but a sophist compared to charity. And 
as Xenophon well observed, whilst the other passions, 
though they raise the mind, yet distort and discompose it by 
their ecstasies and excesses ; whilst love alone, at the same 
time composes and dilates it ; so all other human endow- 
ments which we admire, whilst they exalt and enlarge our 
nature, are yet liable to extravagance : but of charity alone 
there is no excess. The angels aspiring to be like God in 
power, transgressed and fell : " I will ascend, and be like the 
Most High :" d and man aspiring to be like God in knowledge, 
transgressed and fell : " Ye shall be as gods, knowing good and 
evil : " but in aspiring to be like God in goodness or charity, 
neither man nor angel can or shall transgress. Nay, we are 
invited to an imitation of it : " Love your enemies ; do good 
to those that hate you ; pray for those that despitefully use 
and persecute you ; that ye may be the children of your 
Father, which is in heaven : for he maketh his sun to rise 
upon the good and upon the evil, and sends his rain upon the 
just and upon the unjust." e And thus we conclude this part 
of moral doctrine, relating to the georgics oi the mind. 
So in the archetype of the Divine nature — the heathen 

a Paneg. lxxiv. § 4 and 5. b Colos. iii. c Cyropaedia. 

d Isa. xiv. 14. e Matt. v. 44. 



CHAP. III.] GOOD OF MIXD AND BODY COMPARED. 293 

religion, — the words " Optimns maximus," and the Scripture 
pronounces the mercy of God to be above all his works.' 

We have now concluded that portion of morals which 
appertains to the georgics of the mind; and should any one 
imagine, in reading the different parts oi this science which 
we have already handled, that all oiir labour consists in 
uniting into one digest of the sciences all that has been 
neglected by other writers, and that such a work is at best 
only supplying what is clear and evident, and easily arrived 
at by reflection, let him freely enjoy his judgment; but at 
the same time we beg him to keep in mind our first asser- 
tion, that we sought in these researches, not the nourish and 
ornament of things, but their use and verity. He may also 
recall the ancient parable of the Two Gates of Sleep : — 

" Sunt gemmae Somni Portee, quarum altera fertur 
Cornea, qua veris iacilis datur exitus umbris : 
Altera, candenti periecta nitens elephanto ; 
Sed falsa ad ccelum mittunt insomnia manes, "s 

A gate of ivory is indeed very stately, but true dreams pass 
through the gate of horn. 

There might, however, be added, by way of appendix, this 
observation, that there is a certain relation and congruity 
found between the good of the mind and the good of the 
body. For as the good of the body consists in. — 1. Health; 
2. Comeliness ; 3. Strength ; and, 4. Pleasure ; — so the good 
of the mind, considered in a moral light, tends to render it, 
— 1. sound and calm; 2. graceful; 3. strong and agile for 
all the offices of life; and, 4. possessed of a constant quick 
sense of pleasure and noble satisfaction. But as the four 
former excellencies are seldom found together in the body, 
so are the four latter seldom found together in the mind. h 
For it is evident that manv are full of wit and courage, with- 
out being either calm or elegant in their deportment, or 
beautiful in their person; others again possess an elegant 

f Eccles. xviii. 12. & Virg. Mt\. vi. 893. 

h This doctrine of the georgics oi* the mind is expressly endeavoured 
to be supplied by Professor Wesenfeld, in the books he entitles " Arnoldi 
Wesenfeld Georgica Animi et Vitse, seu Pathologia practica, moralis 
nempe et civilis, ex physicis ubique iontibus repetita." Francof. 1695, 
and 1712. Some account of this work is given in the " Acta Erudi- 
torum." Mens. August, 1696. See also " Joan. Franc. Brudens de 
Cultura Ingeniorum," ed. Halse, 1699. Shaw, 



294 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VIII. 

and fine deportment, and yet eschew honesty and justice; 
others again have pure minds, but without any qualifications 
ior the business of life; 1 others who perchance unite all 
these three qualities, possess a sullen humour of stoical sad- 
ness and stupidity, — they practise virtue, but refuse to enjoy 
its pleasures; and if perchance oi these qualities two or 
three are sometimes found together, it seldom if ever hap- 
pens that all four can be met with in the same person. 
And thus we have finished that principal branch of human 
philosophy, which considers man out ot society, and as con- 
sisting of a body and a soul. 



EIGHTH BOOK 



CHAPTER I. 

Civil Knowledge divided into the Art of Conversation, the Art of 
Negotiation, and the Art of State Policy. 

There goes an old tradition, excellent King, that many 
Grecian philosophers had a solemn meeting before the am- 
bassador of a foreign prince, where each endeavoured to 
show his parts, that the ambassador might have somewhat 
to relate of the Grecian wisdom ; but one among the number 
kept silence, so that the ambassador, turning to him, asked, 
" But what have you to say, that I may report it !" He an- 
swered, " Tell your king that you have found one among the 
Greeks who knew how to be silent." a Indeed, I had forgot 
in this compendium of arts to insert the art of silence. For 
as we are now soon to be led, by the course of the work, to 
treat the subject of government; and knowing that I write 
to a king who is so perfect a master of this science since his 
infancy, and being also mindful of the high office I hold 
under your Majesty, we thought we could not have a better 
occasion for putting the art of silence in practice. b Cicero 

1 Mirabeau expressed the same sentiment with his usual felicity. 
Energy of character is scarcely ever found except in union with violent 
temperaments. The wicked only are active. Ed. a Plut. Moral. 

b The author here makes a compliment of his silence to King James, 



CHAP. I.] ETHICS AND POLITICS COMPARED. 295 

makes mention not only of an art, but even of an eloquence 
to be found in silence ; and relates in an epistle to Atticus, 
how once in conversation he made use of this art : "On this 
occasion," says he, " I assumed a part of your eloquence ; for 
I said nothing." And Pindar, who peculiarly strikes the 
mind unexpectedly with some short surprising sentence, has 
this among the rest : " Things unsaid have sometimes a 
greater effect than said." And, therefore, I have determined 
either to be silent upon this subject, or, what is next to it, 
very concise. 

Civil knowledge turns upon a subject of all others the 
most immersed in matter, and therefore very difficult to re- 
duce to axioms. And yet there are some things that ease 
the difficulty. For, 1. as Cato said, "that the Romans were 
like sheep, easier to drive in the flock than single ;" so in 
this respect the office of ethics is in some degree more diffi- 
cult than that of politics. 2. Again, ethics endeavours to 
tinge and furnish the mind with internal goodness, whilst 
civil doctrine requires no more than external goodness, which 
is sufficient for society. d Whence it often happens, that a 
reign may be good and the times bad. Thus we sometimes 
find in sacred history, when mention is made of good and 
pious kings, that the people had not yet turned their hearts 
to the Lord God of their fathers. And therefore, in this 
respect also, ethics has the harder task. 3. States are moved 
slowly, like machines, and with difficulty ; and consequently 
not soon put out of order. For, as in Egypt, the seven 
years of plenty supplied the seven years of famine ; so in 
governments, the good regulation of former times will not 
presently suffer the errors of the succeeding to prove destruc- 
tive. But the resolutions and manners of particular persons 
are more suddenly subverted ; and this, in the last place, 
bears hard upon ethics, but favours politics. 

deeming it impertinent to speak of the arts of empire, to one who knew 
them so well ; but the true reason appears to be, that he thought it 
improper to reveal the mysteries oi state. See below, sect. xxv. Ed. 

c Plut. Cato. 

d Hence there ought to be a due difference preserved betwixt ethics 
and politics, though many writers seem to mix them together ; and 
form a promiscuous doctrine of the law of nature, morality, policy, and 
religion together ; as particularly certain scriptural casuists, and poli- 
tical divines. Shaw, 



296 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VIII. 

Civil knowledge has three parts, suitable to the three 
principal acts of society ; viz., 1. Conversation ; 2. Business ; 
and 3. Government. For there are three kinds of good that 
men desire to procure by civil society; viz., 1. Refuge from 
solitude ; 2. Assistance in the affairs of life ; and 3. Protection 
against injuries. And thus there are three kinds of pru- 
dence, very different, and frequently separated from each 
other j viz., 1. Prudence in conversation ; 2. Prudence in 
business ; 3. Prudence in government. 6 

Conversation, as it ought not to be over affected, much less 
should it be slighted ; since a prudent conduct therein not 
only expresses a certain gracefulness in men's manners, but 
is also of great assistance in the commodious despatch both of 
public and private business. For as action, though an ex- 
ternal thing, is so essential to an orator as to be preferred 
before the other weighty and more internal parts of that art, 
so conversation, though it consist but of externals, is, if not 
the principal, at least a capital thing in the man of business, 
and the prudent management of affairs. What effect the 
countenance may have, appears from the precept of the 
poet, — " Contradict not your words by your look," — 

" Nee vultu destrue verba tuo." f 
For a man may absolutely cancel and betray the force of 
speech by his countenance. And so may actions themselves, 

2 From a mixture of these three parts of civil ch ctrine, there has of 
late been formed a new kind of doctrine, which they call by the name 
of civil prudence. This doctrine has been principally cultivated among 
the Germans ; though hitherto carried to no great length. Hermannus 
Conringius has dwelt upon it at considerable length, in his book " De 
Civili Prudentia," published in the year 1662 ; and Christian Thomasius 
has treated it excellently in the little piece entitled, " Prima? Linese 
de Jure-consultorum Prudentia Consultatoria," &c, first published in 
the year 1705, but the third edition, with notes, in 1712. The heads it 
considers, are, 1. " de Prudentia in genere ;" 2. "de Prudentia con- 
sultatoria j " 3. " de Prudentia Juris-consultorum ; " 4. " de Prudentia 
con sulendi intuitu actionum propriarum ;" 5. " de Prudentia dirigendi 
actiones proprias in conversatione quotidiana ;" 6. " de Prudentia in 
conversatione selecta;" 7. " de Prudentia intuitu societatum domesti- 
carum ;" 8. "de Prudentia in societate civili ;" and 9. "de Prudentia 
alios et aliis consul endi." The little piece also of Andr. Bossius, 
" De Prudentia Civili comparanda," deserves the perusal. See Morhof, 
" De Prudentiae Civilis Scriptoribus ;" " Struvii Bibliotheca Philoso- 
phical' cap. 7 ; and " Stollii Introductio in Historiam Literariam, de 
Prudentia Politica." Shcuw. f Ovid, Ars Amandi, i. 312. 



CHAP. I.] CONVERSATION AND ADDEESS. 297 

as well as words, be destroyed by the look ; according to 
Cicero, who, recommending affability to his brother towards 
the provincials, tells him, it did not wholly consist in giving 
easy access to them, unless he also received them with an 
obliging carnage. " It is doing nothing," says he, " to admit 
them with an open door and a locked-up countenance." 
" Nil interest habere ostium apertum, vultum clausum."s 

We learn also that Atticus, previous to the first interview 
between Cicero and Caesar, in which the issue of the war 
was involved, seriously advised his friend, in his letters, to 
compose his countenance and assume a calm tranquillity. 
But if the management of the face alone has so great an 
effect, how much greater is that of familiar conversation, 
with all its attendants. Indeed the whole of decorum and 
elegance of manners seems to rest in weighing and maintain- 
ing, with an even balance, the dignity betwixt ourselves and 
others ; which is well expressed by Livy, though upon a 
different occasion, in that character of a person, where he 
says, that I may neither seem arrogant nor obnoxious ; that 
is, neither forget my own nor others' liberty. 11 

On the other side ; a devotion to urbanity and external 
elegance terminates in an awkward and disagreeable affec- 
tation. For what is more preposterous than to copy the 
theatres in real life ? And though we did not fall into 
this vicious extreme, yet we should waste time and depress 
the mind too much by attending to such lighter matters. 
Therefore, as in universities, the students, too fond of company, 
are usually told by their tutors, that friends are the thieves 
of time ; so the assiduous application to the decorum of con- 
versation steals from the weightier considerations. Again, 
they who stand in the first rank for urbanity, and seem born, as 
it were, for this alone, seldom take pleasure in anything else, 
and scarce ever rise to the higher and more solid virtues. On 
the contrary, the consciousness of a defect in this particular 
makes us seek a grace from good opinion, which renders all 
things else becoming ; but where this is wanting, men endea- 

s De Petit. Consulatus, xi. 44. 

h Speech of Hanno. " Nunc interroganti senatori, pceniteatne me 
adhuc suscepti adversus Roman os belli ? si reticeam, aut superbus aut 
obnoxius videar ; quorum alterum est hominis aliense libertatis obliti, 
alterum suae." Livy, b. xxiii. c. 12. 



298 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VIII. 

vour to supply it by good breeding. And further, there is 
scarce any greater or more frequent obstruction to business, 
than an over-curious observance of external decorum, with 
its attendant too solicitous and scrupulous a choice of times 
and opportunities. Solomon admirably says, " He that re- 
gards the winds shall not sow, and he that regards the clouds 
shall not reap." 1 For we must make opportunities oftener 
than we find them. In a word, urbanity is like a garment 
to the mind, and therefore ought to have the conditions of a 
garment ; that is, 1. it should be fashionable ; 2. not too 
delicate or costly ; 3. it should be so made, as principally to 
show the reigning virtue oi the mind, and to supply or con- 
ceal deformity ; 4. and lastly, above all things, it must not 
be too strait, so as to cramp the mind and confine its 
motions in business. But this part of civil doctrine relating 
to conversation is elegantly treated by some writers, and can 
by no means be reported as deficient. k 



CHAPTER II. 

The Art of Negotiation divided into the Knowledge of Dispersed Occa- 
sions (Conduct in Particular Emergencies), and into the Science of 
Rising in Life. Examples of the former drawn from Solomon. Pre- 
cepts relating to Self-advancement. 

We divide the doctrine of business into the doctrine of 
various occasions, and the doctrine of rising in life. The 
first includes all the possible variety of affairs, and is as the 
amanuensis to common life ; but the other collects and 
suggests such things only as regard the improvement of a 

* Eccles. xi. 4. 

k It seems of late more cultivated among the French and Germans, 
than among the English. The " Morale du Monde ;" the " Modeles de 
Conversation ;" the " Reflexions sur la Ridicule, and sur les moyens 
del'eViter;" "La Politesse des Mceurs;" " I/Art de Plaire dans la 
Conversation ;" and Frid. Gentzkenius's " Doctrina de Decoro," in his 
Systema Philosophic, deserve perusal. This last work, published 
in Germany, treats 1. of the nature of decorum, and its foundation ; 
2. of national decorum ; 3. of human decorum ; 4. the decorum ot 
youth and age ; 5. the decorum of men and women ; 6. the decorum 
of husband and wife ; 7. the decorum of the clergy ; 8. the decorum 
of princes ; and 9. the decorum of the nobility, and men of letters. See 
" Stollii Introductio in Historian! Literariam, de Doctrina ejus quod est 
Decorum," p. 795-6. Shaw. 



CHAP. II.] PRUDENCE IN BUSINESS. 299 

man's private fortune, and may therefore serve each person 
as a private register of his affairs. 

No one hath hitherto treated the doctrine of business 
suitably to its merit, to the great prejudice of the character 
both of learning and learned men ; for from hence proceeds 
the mischief, which has fixed it as a reproach upon men of 
letters, that learning and civil prudence are seldom found 
together. And if we rightly observe those three kinds of 
prudence, which we lately said belong to civil life, that of 
conversation is generally despised by men of learning as a 
servile thing and an enemy to contemplation ; and for the 
government of states, though learned men acquit themselves 
well when advanced to the helm, yet this promotion happens 
to few of them ; but for the present subject, the prudence 
of business, upon which our lives principally turn, there are 
no books extant about it, except a few civil admonitions, 
collected into a little volume or two, by no means adequate 
to the copiousness of the subject. But if books were written 
upon this subject as upon others, we doubt not that learned 
men, furnished with tolerable experience, would far excel the 
unlearned, furnished with much greater experience, and out- 
shoot them in their own bow. 

Nor need we apprehend that the matter of this science is 
too various to fall under precept, for it is much less extensive 
than the doctrine of government, which yet we find very 
well cultivated. There seem to have been some professors 
of this kind of prudence among the Komans in their best 
days ; for Cicero declares it was the custom, a little before 
his time, among the senators most famous for knowledge and 
experience, as Coruncanius, Curius, Lselius, &c, to walk the 
forum at certain hours, where they offered themselves to be 
consulted by the people, not so much upon law, but upon 
business of all kinds ; as the marriage of a daughter, the 
education of a son, the purchasing of an estate, and other 
occasions of common life. a Whence it appears, that there is 
a certain prudence of advising even in private affairs, and 
derivable from an universal knowledge of civil business, 
experience, and general observation of similar cases. So we 
find the book which Q. Cicero wrote to his brother, De 
Petitione Consulatus (the only treatise, so far as we know, 

a Orat. § iii. 33. 



300 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VIII. 

extant upon any particular business), though it regarded 
chiefly the giving advice upon that present occasion, yet 
contains many particular axioms of politics, which were not 
only of temporary use, but prescribe a certain permanent 
rule for popular elections. But in this kind, there is nothing 
any way comparable to the aphorisms of Solomon, of whom 
the Scripture bears testimony, that " his heart was as the 
sand of the sea." b For the sand of the sea encompasses the 
extremities of the whole earth ; so his wisdom comprehended 
all things, both human and divine. And in those aphorisms 
are found many excellent civil precepts and admonitions, be- 
sides things of a more theological nature, flowing from the 
depth and innermost bosom of wisdom, and running out into 
a most spacious field of variety. And as we place the doc- 
trine of various occasions among the desiderata of the sciences, 
we will here dwell upon it a little, and lay down an example 
thereof, in the way of explaining some of these aphorisms or 
proverbs of Solomon. 

A SPECIMEN OP THE DOCTRINE OP VARIOUS OCCASIONS IN THE COMMON 
BUSINESS OF LIFE, BY WAY OF APHORISM AND EXPLANATION. 

Aphorism I. — A soft answer appeases anger. c 
If the anger of a prince or superior be kindled against 
you, and it be now your turn to speak, Solomon directs, 
1. that an answer be made ; and 2. that it be soft. The first 
rule contains three precepts ; viz., 1. to guard against a 
melancholy and stubborn silence, for this either turns the 
fault wholly upon you, as if you could make no answer, or 
secretly impeaches your superior, as if his ears were not open 
to a just defence. 2. To beware of delaying the thing, and 
requiring a longer day for your defence ; winch either accuses 
your superior of passion, or signifies that you are preparing 
some artificial turn or colour. So that it is always best 
directly to say something for the present, in your own excuse, 
as the occasion requires. And 3. To make a real answer, an 
answer, not a mere confession or bare submission, but a mix- 
ture of apology and excuse. For it is unsafe to do otherwise, 
unless with very generous and noble spirits, which are ex- 
tremely rare. Then follows the second rule, that the answer 
be mild and soft, not stiff and irritating. 

b 3 Kings iv. 27. c Prov. xv. 1. 



CHAP. II.] WISE CONDUCT EXEMPLIFIED. 301 

II. — A prudent servant shall ride over a foolish son, and divide the 
inheritance among the brethren.^ 

In every jarring family there constantly rises up some 
servant or humble friend of sway, who takes upon him to 
compose their differences at his own discretion ; to whom, for 
that reason, the whole family, even the master himself, is 
subject. If this man has a view to his own ends, he foments 
and aggravates the differences of the family ; but if he prove 
just and upright, he is certainly very deserving. So that he 
may be reckoned even as one of the brethren, or at least have 
the direction of the inheritance in trust. 

III. — If a wise man contends with a fool, whether he he in anger or in 
jest, there is no quiet. e 

We are frequently admonished to avoid unequal conflicts ; 
that is, not to strive with the stronger : but the admonition 
of Solomon is no less useful, that we should not strive with 
the worthless ; for here the match is very unequal, where it 
is no victory to conquer, and a great disgrace to be conquered. 
Nor does it signify if, in such a conquest, we should some- 
times deal as in jest, and sometimes .in the way of disdain 
and contempt ; for what course soever we take, we are losers, 
and can never come handsomely off. But the worst case of 
all is, if our antagonist have something of the fool in him, 
that is, if he be confident and headstrong. 

IV. — Listen not to all that is spoken, lest thou shouldst hear thy servant 

curse thee. 1 

It is scarce credible what uneasiness is created in life by 
an useless curiosity about the things that concern us ; as 
when we pry into such secrets, as being discovered, give us 
distaste, but afford no assistance or relief. For, 1. there 
follows vexation and disquiet of mind, as all human things 
are full of perficliousness and ingratitude. So that though 
we could procure some magic glass, wherein to view the 
animosities, and all that malice which is any way at work 
against us, it were better for us to break it directly than to 
use it. For these things are but as the rustling of leaves, 
soon over. 2. This curiosity always loads the mind with 
suspicion, which is a violent enemy to counsels, and renders 
them unsteady and perplexed. 3. It also frequently fixes the 

d Prov. xvii. 2. e Prov. xxix. 9. £ Eccles. vii. 22. 



302 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VIII. 

evils themselves, which would otherwise have blown over : 
for it is a dangerous thing to provoke the consciences of 
men, who, so long as they think themselves concealed, are 
easily changed for the better ; but if they once find them- 
selves discovered, drive out one evil with another. It was 
therefore justly esteemed the utmost prudence in Pompey 
that he directly burnt all the papers of Sertorius, unperused 
by himseli or others. 

V. — Poverty comes as a traveller, but want as an armed man.% 
This aphorism elegantly describes how prodigals, and such 
as take no care of their affairs, make shipwreck of their for- 
tunes. For debt, and diminution of the capital, at first- 
steals on gradually and almost imperceptibly like a traveller, 
but soon after want invades as an armed man ; that is, with 
a hand so strong and powerful as can no longer be resisted ; 
for it was justly said by the ancients, that necessity is of all 
things the strongest. We must, therefore, prevent the 
traveller, and guard against the armed man. 

VI. — lie voho instructs a scoffer, procures to Mmself reproach ; and he 
who reproves a ivicJced man, procures to himself a stain. h 

This agrees with the precept of our Saviour, not to throw 
pearls before swine. 1 This aphorism distinguishes betwixt the 
actions of precept and reproof, and again betwixt the persons 
of the scorner and the wicked, and lastly, the reward is dis- 
tinguished. In the former case, precept is repaid by a loss 
of labour, and in the latter, of reproof, it is repaid with a 
stain also. For when any one instructs and teaches a scorner, 
he first loses his time ; in the next place, others laugh at his 
labour, as fruitless and misapplied; and lastly, the scorner 
himself disdains the knowledge delivered. But there is more 
danger in reproving a wicked man, who not only lends no ear, 
but turns again, and either directly rails at his admonisher, 
who has now made himself odious to him ; or, at least, after- 
wards traduces him to others. 

VII. — A wise son rejoices his father, but a foolish son is a sorrow to 

his mother y- 

The domestic joys and griefs of father and mother from 
their children are here distinguished ; for a prudent and 

s Prov. vi. 11, and xxiv. 34. h Prov. ix. 7. i Matt. vii. 6. 

k Prov. x. 1. 



CHAP. II.] WISE CONDUCT EXEMPLIFIED. 303 

hopeful son is a capital pleasure to the father, who knows 
the value of virtue better than the mother, and therefore 
rejoices more at his son's disposition to virtue. This joy may 
also be heightened, perhaps, from seeing the good effect of 
his own management, in the education of his son, so as to 
form good morals in him by precept and example. On the 
other hand, the mother suffers and partakes the most in the 
calamity of her son, because the maternal affection is the 
more soft and tender : and again, perhaps, because she is 
conscious that her indulgence has spoiled and depraved 
him. 

VIII. — The memory of the just is blessed, but the name oj the wicked 

shall rot. 1 

We have here that distinction between the character of 
good and evil men, which usually takes place after death. 
For in the case of good men, when envy, that pursues them 
whilst alive, is extinguished, their name presently nourishes, 
and their fame increases every day. But the fame of bad 
men, though it may remain for a while, through the favour 
of friends and faction, yet soon becomes odious, and at length 
degenerates into infamy, and ends, as it were, in a loathsome 
odour. 

IX. — He who troubles his own house, shall inherit the wind™ 

This is a very useful admonition, as to domestic jars and 
differences. For many promise themselves great matters 
from the separation of their wives, the disinheriting of their 
children, the frequent changing of servants, &c, as if they 
should thence procure greater peace of mind, or a more suc- 
cessful administration of their affairs \ but such hopes com- 
monly turn to wind ; these changes being seldom for the 
better. And such disturbers of their families often meet 
with various crosses and ingratitude, from those they after- 
wards adopt and choose. They, by this means, also bring ill 
reports, and ambiguous rumours upon themselves. For as 
Cicero well observes, " All men's characters proceed from 
their domestics." 11 And both these mischiefs Solomon ele- 
gantly expresses by the " possession of the wind :" for the 
frustration of expectation, and the raising of rumours, are 
justly compared to the winds. 

1 Prov. x. 7. m Prov. xi. 29. n Petit. Consulatus, § 5. 



304 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VIII. 

X. — TJie end cf a discourse is better than the beginning. 

This aphorism corrects a common error, prevailing not 
only among such as principally study words, but also the 
more prudent ; viz., that men are more solicitous about the 
beginnings and entrances of their discourses than about the 
conclusions, and more exactly labour their prefaces and in- 
troductions than their closes. Whereas they ought not to 
neglect the former, but should have the latter, as being 
things oi far the greater consequence, ready prepared before- 
hand ; casting about with themselves, as much as possible, 
what may be the last issue of the discourse, and how business 
may be thence forwarded and ripened. They ought further, 
not only to consider the windings up of discourses relating 
to business, but to regard also such turns as may be advan- 
tageously and gracefully given upon departure, even though 
they should be quite foreign to the matter in hand. It was 
the constant practice of two great and prudent privy-coun- 
sellors, on whom the weight of the kingdom chiefly rested, 
as often as they discoursed with their princes upon matters of 
state, never to end the conversation with what regarded the 
principal subject ; but always to go off with a jest, or some 
pleasant device ; and as the proverb runs, " Washing off 
their salt-water discourses with fresh at the conclusion." 
And this was one of the principal arts they had. 

XI. — As dead flies cause the best ointment to yield an ill odour, so does a 
little folly to a man in refutation for wisdom and honour. ? 

The condition of men eminent for virtue is, as this apho- 
rism excellently observes, exceeding hard and miserable ; 
because their errors, though ever so small, are not overlooked. 
But as in a clear diamond, every little grain, or speck, strikes 
the eye disagreeably, though it would not be observed in a duller 
stone ; so in men of eminent virtue, their smallest vices are 
readily spied, talked of, and severely censured ; whilst in an 
ordinary man, they would either have lain concealed, or been 
easily excused. Whence a little folly in a very wise man, a 
small slip in a very good man, and a little indecency in a 
polite and elegant man, greatly diminish their characters 
and reputations. It might, therefore, be no bad policy, for 
men of uncommon excellencies to intermix with their actions 

Eccles. vii. 9. p Eccles. x. 1. 



CHAP. II.] WISE CONDUCT EXEMPLIFIED. 305 

a few absurdities, that may be committed without vice, in 
order to reserve a liberty, and confound the observation of 
little defects. 

XII. — Scornful men ensnare a city, hut wise men prevent calamity. ,<i 
It may seem strange, that in the description of men, 
formed, as it were, by nature, for the destruction of states, 
Solomon should choose the character, not of a proud and 
haughty, not of a tyrannical and cruel, not of a rash and 
violent, not of a seditious and turbulent, not of a foolish or 
incapable man, but the character of a scorner. Yet this 
choice is becoming the wisdom of that king, who well knew 
how governments were subverted, and how preserved. For 
there is scarce such another destructive thing to kingdoms, 
and commonwealths, as that the counsellors, or senators, who 
sit at the helm, should be naturally scorners ; who, to show 
themselves courageous advisers, are always extenuating the 
greatness oi dangers, insulting, as tearful wretches, those 
who weigh them as they ought, and ridiculing the ripening 
delays of counsel and debate, as tedious, matters of oratory, 
unserviceable to the general issue of business. They de- 
spise rumours as the breath of the rabble, and things 
that will soon pass over, though the counsels of princes are 
to be chiefly directed from hence. They account the power 
and authority of laws but nets unfit to hold great matters. 
They reject, as dreams and melancholy notions, those 
counsels and precautions that regard futurity at a distance. 
They satirize and banter such men as are really prudent 
and knowing in affairs, or such as bear noble minds, and 
are capable of advising. In short, they sap all the foun- 
dations of political government at once — a thing which de- 
serves the greater attention, as it is not effected by open 
attack, but by secret undermining ; nor is it, by any means, 
so much suspected among mankind as it deserves. 

XIII. — The prince who luillingly heavlcens to lies, has all his servants 

wicked. r 

When a prince is injudiciously disposed to lend a credu- 
lous ear to whisperers and flatterers, pestilent breath seems 
to proceed from him, corrupting and infecting all his ser- 
vants ; and now some search into his fears, and increase 
i Prov. xxix. 8. r Prov. xxix. 12. 

2 x 



306 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VIII. 

tliem with fictitious rumours ; some raise up in him the 
fury of envy, especially against the most deserving ; some, 
by accusing of others, wash their own stains away ; some 
make room for the preferment and gratification of their 
friends, by calumniating and traducing their competitors, <fec. 
And these agents are naturally the most vicious servants of 
the prince. Those again, of better principles and dispositions, 
after finding little security in their innocence, their master 
not knowing how to distinguish truth from falsehood, drop 
their moral honesty, go into the eddy winds of the court, and 
servilely submit to be carried about with them. For as 
Tacitus says of Claudius, " There is no safety with that 
prince, into whose mind all things are infused and directed." s 
And Comines well observes, that " it is better being servant 
to a prince whose suspicions are endless, than whose credulity 
is great." * 

XIV. — A just man is merciful to the life of his beast, but the mercies 
of the ivicJced are cruel. ^ 

Nature has endowed man with a noble and excellent 
principle of compassion, which extends itself even to the 
brutes, that by divine appointment are made subject to him. 
Whence this compassion has some resemblance with that of 
a prince towards his subjects. And it is certain, that the 
noblest souls are most extensively merciful ; for narrow and 
degenerate spirits think compassion belongs not to them, but 
a great soul, the noblest part of the creation, is ever com- 
passionate. Thus under the old law there were numerous 
precepts not merely ceremonial, as the ordaining of mercy, 
for example, the not eating of flesh with the blood thereof, 
&c. So, likewise, the sects of the Essenes and Pythagoreans 
totally abstained from flesh, as they do also to this day, with 
an inviolated superstition, in some parts of the empire ot 
Mogul. Nay, the Turks, though a cruel and bloody nation, 
both in their descent and discipline, give alms to brutes, and 
suffer them not to be tortured. But lest this principle might 
seem to countenance all kinds of compassion, Solomon 
wholesomely subjoins, " That the mercies of the wicked are 
cruel;" that is, when such great offenders are spared, as 
ought to be cut off with the sword of justice. For this kind 

s Annals, xii, 3. * M&noires et Chroniques du Quinzieme Sibcle. 

u Prov. xii. 1. 



CHAP. II.] WISE CONDUCT EXEMPLIFIED. 307 

of mercy is the greatest of all cruelties, as cruelty affects but 
particular persons ; whilst impunity lets loose the whole 
army of evil doers, and drives them upon the innocent. 

XV. — A fool speaks all Ms mind, but a wise man reserves something for 

hereafter ^ 

This aphorism seems principally levelled, not against the 
futility of light persons, who speak what they should con- 
ceal, nor against the pert n ess with which they indiscrimi- 
nately and injudiciously fly out upon men and things, nor 
against the talkative humour with which some men disgust 
their hearers, but against a more latent failing, vis., a very 
imprudent and impolitic management of speech ; when a 
man in private conversation so directs his discourse as, in a 
continued string of words, to deliver all he can say, that any 
way relates to the subject, which is a great prejudice to 
business. For, 1. discourse interrupted and infused by parcels, 
enters deeper than if it w^ere continued and unbroken ; in 
which case the weight of things is not distinctly and particu- 
larly felt, as having not time to fix themselves ; but one reason 
drives out another before it had taken root. 2. Again, no 
one is so powerful or happy in eloquence, as at first setting 
out to leave the hearer perfectly mute and silent ; but he 
will always have something to answer, and perhaps to object 
in his turn. And here it happens, that those things which 
were to be reserved for confutation, or reply, being now 
anticipated, lose their strength and beauty. 3. Lastly, if a 
person does not utter all his mind at once, but speaks by 
starts, first one thing, then another, he will perceive from 
the countenance and answer of the person spoken to, how 
each particular affects him, and in what sense he takes it ; 
and thus be directed more cautiously to suppress or employ 
the matter still in reserve. 

XVI. — If the displeasure of great men rise up against thee, forsalce not 
thy place ; for pliant behaviour extenuates great offences. 7 

This aphorism shows how a person ought to behave, when 
he has incurred the displeasure of his prince. The precept 
hath two parts, — 1. that the person quit not his post ; and 
2. that he, with diligence and caution, apply to the cure, as 

x Pro v. xxix. 11. 7 Eccles. ti. 4. 

x2 



308 ADVANCEMENT OF LEAKNING. [BOOK VIII. 

of a dangerous disease. For wlien men see their prince 
incensed against them, what through impatience of disgrace, 
fear of renewing their wounds by sight, and partly to let 
their prince behold their contrition and humiliation, it is 
usual with them to retire from their office or employ, and 
sometimes to resign their places and dignities into their 
prince's hands. But Solomon disapproves this method as 
pernicious. For, 1. it publishes the disgrace too much ; 
whence both our enemies and enviers are more emboldened 
to hurt us, and our friends the more intimidated from lend- 
ing their assistance. 2. By this means the anger of the 
prince, which perhaps would have blown over of itself, had 
it not been made public, becomes more fixed ; and having 
now begun to displace the person, ends not but in his down- 
fall. 3. This resigning carries something ol ill-will with it, 
and shows a dislike of the times, which adds the evil of 
indignation to that of suspicion. The following remedies 
regard the cure : 1. Let him above all things beware how by 
any insensibility, or elation of mind, he seems regardless of 
his prince's displeasure, or not affected as he ought. He 
should not compose his countenance to a stubborn melan- 
choly, but to a grave and decent dejection ; and show him- 
self, in all his actions, less brisk and cheerful than usual. It 
may also be for his advantage to use the assistance and medi- 
ation oi a friend with the prince, seasonably to insinuate, 
with how great a sense of grief the person in disgrace is 
inwardly affected. 2. Let him carefully avoid even the least 
occasions of reviving the thing which caused the displeasure ; 
or of giving any handle to fresh distaste, and open rebuke. 
3. Let him diligently seek all occasions wherein his service 
may be acceptable to his prince, that he may both show a 
ready desire of retrieving his past offence, and his prince 
perceive what a servant he must lose if he quit him. 4. 
Either let him prudently transfer the blame upon others, or 
insinuate that the offence was committed with no ill design, 
or show that their malice, who accused him to the prince, 
aggravated the thing above measure. 5. Lastly, let him in 
every respect be watchful and intent upon the cure. 



CHAP. II.] WISE CONDUCT EXEMPLIFIED. 309 

XVII. — The first in his own cause is just ; then comes the other party, 
and inquires into him. 7 - 

The first information in any cause, if it dwell a little with 
the judge, takes root, tinges, and possesses him so, as hardly 
to be removed again, unless some manifest falsity be found in 
the matter itself, or some artifice be discovered in delivering 
it. For a naked and simple defence, though just and pre- 
valent, can scarce balance the prejudice of a prior informa- 
tion, or of itself reduce to an equilibrium the scale of justice 
that has once inclined. It is, therefore, safest for the judge 
to hear nothing as to the merits of a cause, before both 
parties are convened ; and best for the defendant, if he per- 
ceive the judge prepossessed, to endeavour, as far as ever the 
case will allow, principally to detect some artifice, or trick, 
made use ot by the plaintiff to abuse the judge. 

XVIII. — He who hidings up his servant delicately, shall find him stubborn 

in the end.'' 

Princes and masters are, by the advice of Solomon, to 
observe moderation in conferring grace and favour upon their 
servants. This moderation consists in three things. 1. In 
promoting them gradually, not by sudden starts. 2. In 
accustoming them sometimes to denial. And 3. as is well 
observed by Machiavel, in letting them always have some- 
thing further to hope for. And unless these particulars be 
observed, princes, in the end, will doubtless find from then- 
servants disrespect and obstinacy, instead of gratitude and 
duty. For from sudden promotion arises insolence ; from a 
perpetual obtaining one's desires, impatience of denial ; and 
if there be nothing further to wish, there's an end of alacrity 
and industry. 

XIX. — A man diligent in his business shall stand before Icings, and not 
be ranked among the mdgar. b 

Of all the virtues which kings chiefly regard and require 
in the choice of servants, that of expedition and resolution 
in the despatch of business is the most acceptable. Men of 

z Prov. xvii. 17; but the sense is different. a Prov. xxix. 21. 

b Prov. xxii. 29. Franklin cited this aphorism as exemplified in his 
person. He was caressed by Louis XVI., feared by George III., and 
lived on terms of easy friendship with the heads of other powers who 
had combined against England. His pre-eminence he attributed 
entirely to his industry. Ed. 



310 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VIII. 

depth are held suspected by princes, as inspecting them too 
close, and being able by their strength of capacity, as by a 
machine, to turn and wind them against their will and with- 
out their knowledge. Popular men are hated., as standing in 
the light of kings, and drawing the eyes of the multitude 
upon themselves. Men of courage are generally esteemed 
turbulent and too enterprising. Honest and just men are 
accounted morose, and not compilable enough to the will of 
their masters. Lastly, there is no virtue but has its shade, 
wherewith the minds of kings are offended; but despatch 
alone in executing their commands has nothing displeasing 
to them. Besides, the motions of the minds of kings are 
swift and impatient of delay ; for they think themselves able 
to effect anything, and imagine that nothing more is wanting 
but to have it done instantly. Whence despatch is to them 
the most grateful of all things. 

XX. — I saw all the living wliicli walk wider the sun, with the succeeding 
young prince that shall rise up in his stead. c 

This aphorism points out the vanity of those who flock 
about the next successors of princes. The root of this is the 
folly naturally implanted in the minds of men ; viz. their 
being too fond of their own hopes : for scarce any one but 
is more delighted with hope than with enjoyment. Again, 
novelty is pleasing and greedily coveted by human nature ; 
and these two things, hope and novelty, meet in the successor 
of a prince. The aphorism hints the same that was formerly 
said by Pompey to Sylla, and again by Tiberius of Macro, 
that the sun has more adorers rising than setting. d Yet 
rulers in possession are not much affected with this, or esteem 
it any great matter, as neither Sylla nor Tiberius did ; but 
rather laugh at the levity of men, and encounter not with 
dreams ; for hope, as was well said, is but a waking dream. e 

XXI. — There was a little city manned hut by a few, and a mighty ling 
drew his army to it, erecting ■ buhvarks against it, and intrenched it 
round : now there was found within the walls a poor wise man, and he 
by his wisdom delivered the city; but none remembered the same poor 
man. 1 

This parable describes the corrupt and malevolent nature 
of men, who, in extremities and difficulties, generally fly to 

c Eccles. iv. 15. Solomon, in his old age, seeing all his courtiers desert 
him to pay court to his son Rehoboam, uttered this sentiment. Ed. 
d Tacit. Annals, vi. e Eccles. xiii. 18. f Eccles. ix. 14. 



CHAP. II. j WISE CONDUCT EXEMPLIFIED. 311 

the prudent and the courageous, though they before despised 
them ; and as soon as the storm is over, they show ingratitude 
to their preservers. Machiavel had reason to put the ques- 
tion, " Which is the more ungrateful towards the well- 
deserving, the prince or the people V though he accuses both 
of ingratitude.? The thing does not proceed wholly from the 
ingratitude either of prinees or people, but it is generally 
attended with the envy of the nobility, who secretly repine 
at the event, though happy and prosperous, because it was 
not procured by themselves. Whence they lessen the merit 
of the author and bear him down. 

XXII. — The way of the slothful is a hedge of thorns? 
This aphorism elegantly shows that sloth is laborious in 
the end : for diligent and cautious preparation guards the 
foot from stumbling, and smooths the way before it is trod ; 
but he who is sluggish, and defers all things to the last 
moment, must of necessity be at every step treacling as upon 
brambles and thorns, which frequently detain and hinder 
him ; and the same may be observed in the government of a 
family, where, if due care and forethought be used, all things 
go on calmly, and, as it were, spontaneously, without noise 
and bustle ; but if this caution be neglected, when any 
great occasion arises, numerous matters crowd in to be done 
at once, the servants are in confusion, and the house rings. 

XXIII. — He who respects persons in judgment does ill, and will forsake 
the truth for a piece of bread} 

This aphorism wisely observes, that facility of temper is 
more pernicious in a judge than bribery ; for bribes are not 
offered by all, but there is no cause wherein something may 
not be found to sway the mind of the judge, if he be a 
respecter of persons. Thus, one shall be respected for his 
country, another for his riches, another for being recom- 
mended by a friend, &c. So that iniquity must abound 
where respect of persons prevails, and judgment be corrupted 
for a very trifling thing, as it were for a morsel of bread. 

XXIV. — A poor man, that by extortion oppresses the poor, is HJce a 
land-flood that causes famine?- 

This parable was anciently painted by the fable of the 
leech, fall and empty ; for the oppression of a poor an d 

s Discorso sopra Liv. lib. i. h Prov. xv. 19. 

1 Prov. xxviii. 31. k Prov. xxviii. 3. 



312 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VIII. 

hungry wretch is much more grievous than the oppression of 
one who is rich and full ; as he searches into all the corners 
and arts of exactions and ways oi raising contributions. The 
thing has been also usually resembled to a sponge, which 
sucks strongly when dry, but less when moist. And it con- 
tains an useful admonition to princes, that they commit not 
the government of provinces or places of power to indigent 
men, or such as are in debt ; and again to the people, that 
they permit not their kings to struggle with want. 

XXV. — A just man falling before the wicked, is a troubled fountain 
and a corrupted spring. 1 

This is a caution to states, that they should have a capital 
regard to the passing an unjust or infamous sentence in any 
great and weighty cause, where not only the guilty is 
acquitted, but the innocent condemned. To countenance 
private injuries, indeed, disturbs and pollutes the clear 
streams of justice, as it were, in the brook ; but unjust and 
great public sentences, which are afterwards drawn into 
precedents, infect and defile the very fountain ot justice. 
For when once the court goes on the side of injustice, the 
law becomes a public robber, and one man really a wolf to 
another. 

XXVI. — Contract no friendship with an angry man, nor walk with a 

furious one. m 

The more religiously the laws of friendship are to be 
observed amongst good men, the more caution should be 
used in making a prudent choice of friends. The nature and 
humour of friends, so far as concerns ourselves alone, should 
be absolutely tolerated ; but when they lay us under a 
necessity, as to the character we should put on towards 
others, this becomes an exceeding hard and unreasonable 
condition of friendship. It is therefore of great moment to 
the peace and security of life, according to the direction of 
Solomon, to have no friendship with passionate men, and 
such as easily stir up or enter into debates and quarrels. 
For such Mends will be perpetually entangling us in strifes 
and contentions, so that we must either break off with them 
or have no regard to our own safety. 

1 Prov. xxv. 29. m Prov. xxii. 24. 



CHAP. II.] WISE CONDUCT EXEMPLIFIED. 313 

XX VII. — He who conceals a fault seeks friendship, but he who repeats a 
matter separates friends. , n 

There are two ways of composing differences and recon- 
ciling tlie minds of men ; the one beginning with oblivion 
and forgiveness, the other with a recollection of the injuries, 
interweaving it with apologies and excuses. I remember it 
is the opinion of a very wise politician, " That he who treats 
of peace without repeating the conditions of the difference, 
rather deceives the mind with the sweetness of reconciliation 
than equitably makes up the matter." But Solomon, a still 
wiser man, is of a contrary opinion, and approves of forget- 
ting, but forbids a repetition of the difference, as being 
attended with these inconveniences: 1. That it rakes into the 
old sore ; 2. that it may cause a new difference ; 3. and 
lastly, that it brings the matter to end in excuses ; whereas 
both sides had rather seem to forgive the injury than allow 
of an excuse. 

XXVIII. — In every good tvorh is plenty ; but where words abound, 
there is commonly a want. 

Solomon here distinguishes the fruit of the labour of the 
tongue, and that ot the labour oi the hand, as if from the 
one came want, and from the other abundance. For it almost 
constantly happens that they who speak much, boast much, 
and promise largely, are but barren, and receive no fruit 
from the things they talk of; being seldom industrious or 
diligent in works, but feed and satisfy themselves with dis- 
course alone as with wind ; whilst, as the poet intimates, "he 
who is conscious to himself that he can really effect," feels 
the satisfaction inwardly, and keeps silent : 
" Qui silet est firmus:"? 

whereas, he who knows he grasps nothing but empty air, is 
full of talk and strange stories. 

XXIX. — Open reproof is better than secret affection. * 

This aphorism reprehends the indulgence of those who use 
not the privilege of friendship freely and boldly to admonish 
tneir friends as well of their errors as their dangers. "What 
shall I do 1 " says an easy, good-natured friend, " or what 

n Prov. xvii. 9. ° Prov. xiv. 23. 

p Ovid, Remedia Amoris, 697. * Prov. xxvii. 5. 



314 ADVANCEMENT OF LEAKNING. [BOOK VIII* 

course shall I take ? I love him as well as man can do, and 
would willingly suffer any misfortune in his stead : but I 
know his nature ; if I deal freely with him, I shall offend 
him ; at least chagrin him, and yet do him no service. Nay, 
I shall sooner alienate his friendship from me, than win him 
over from those things he has fixed his mind upon." Such 
an effeminate and useless friend as this Solomon reprehends, 
and pronounces that greater advantage may be received from 
an open enemy ; as a man may chance to hear those things 
from an enemy by way of reproach, which a friend, through 
too much indulgence, will not speak out. 

XXX. — A prudent man looks well to his steps, hut a fool turns aside 

to deceit. 1 

There are two kinds of prudence ; the one true and sound, 
the other degenerate and false : the latter Solomon calls by 
the name of folly. The candidate for the tormer has an eye 
to his footings, looking out for dangers, contriving remedies, 
and by the assistance of good men defending himself against 
the bad : he is wary in entering upon business, and not un- 
provided of a retreat ; watching for opportunities, powerful 
against opposition, &c. But the follower of the other is 
wholly patched up of fallacy and cunning, placing all his hope 
in the circumventing of others, and forming them to his 
fancy. And this the aphorism justly rejects as a vicious and 
even a weak kind of prudence. For, 1. it is by no means a 
thing in our own power, nor depending upon any constant 
rule ; but is daily inventing of new stratagems as the old 
ones fail and grow useless. 2. He who has once the character 
of a crafty, tricking man, is entirely deprived of a principal 
instrument of business, — trust ; whence he will find nothing- 
succeed to his wish. 3. Lastly, however specious and pleas- 
ing these arts may seem, yet they are often frustrated ; as 
well observed by Tacitus, when he said, that crafty and bold 
counsels, though pleasant in the exiDectation, are hard to 
execute, and unhappy in the event. 

XXXI. — Be not over-rigliteoiis, nor mate thyself over-ivise : for why 
shouldst thou suddenly be taken off! s 

There are times, says Tacitus, wherein great virtues meet 
with certain ruin.* And this happens to men eminent for 

r Prov. xv. 21. s Eccles. vii. 17. * Hist. i. 2. 



CHAP. II.] WISE CONDUCT EXEMPLIFIED. 315 

virtue and justice, sometimes suddenly, and sometimes after 
it was long foreseen. But if prudence be also joined, so as 
to make such men cautious and watchful of their own safety, 
then they gain thus much, that their rain shall come suddenly, 
and entirely from secret and dark counsels — whence they may 
escape envy, and meet destruction unexpected. But for that 
over-righteousness expressed in the aphorism, it is not under- 
stood of virtue itself, in which there is no excess, but of a 
vain and invidious affectation and show thereof, like what 
Tacitus intimates of Lepidus — making it a kind of miracle 
that he never gave any servile opinion, and yet stood safe in 
severe times. u 

XXXII. — Give occasion to a tcise man, and his ivisdom ivill he 

increased.* 

This aphorism distinguishes between that wisdom which 
has grown up and ripened into a true habit, and that w^hich 
only floats in the brain, or is tossed upon the tongue without 
having taken root. The former, when occasion offers, is pre- 
sently roused, got ready, and distended, so as to appear 
greater than itself; whereas the latter, which was pert 
before, stands amazed and confounded when occasion calls for 
it : so that the person who thought himself endowed with 
this wisdom, begins to question whether Ins preconceptions 
about it were not mere dreams and empty speculations. 

XXXIII. — To praise one's friend aloud, rising early, has the same effect 

as cursing IdniJ 

Moderate and sensible praises, dropped occasionally, are of 
great service to the reputation and fortunes of men ; whilst 
immoderate, noisy, and fulsome praises do no good, but 
rather hurt, as the aphorism expresses it. For, 1. they plainly 
betray themselves to proceed from an excess of good will, or 
to be purposely designed rather to gain favour with the per- 
son by false encomiums, than to paint him justly. 2. Sparing 
and modest praises generally invite the company somewhat 
to improve them, but profuse and immoderate ones to detract 
and take off from them. 3. The principal thing is, that 
immoderate praises procure envy to the person praised, as all 
extravagant commendations seem to reproach others that 
may be no less deserving. 

u Annals, iv. 20. x Prov. ix. 9. 7 Prov. xxiv. 14. 



316 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. [BOOK VIII. 

XXXIV. — As the face shines in water, so are men's hearts manifest to 

the wise. 7 - 

This aphorism, distinguishes between the minds of prudent 
men and those of others, by comparing the former to water, 
or a mirror, which receives the forms and images of things ; 
whilst the latter are like earth, or unpolished stone, which 
reflects nothing. And the mind of a prudent man is the 
more aptly compared to a glass, because therein one's own 
image may, at the same time, be viewed along with those of 
others, which could not be done by the eye without assistance : 
but if the mind of a prudent man be so capacious as to 
observe and distinguish an infinite diversity of natures and 
manners in men, it remains that we endeavour to render 
it as various in the application as it is in the representation. 
" Qui sapit, innumeris moribus aptus erit." a 

If we have dwelt too long upon those parables, and used 
them for higher purposes than mere illustrations, the dignity 
of both author and subject must be our excuse. For thus, 
it was not only usual among the Jews, but very common 
also among the wise men of other ancient nations, when they 
had, by observation, hit upon anything useful in common 
life, to reduce and contract it into some short sentence, para- 
ble, or fable. Fables anciently supplied the defect of exam- 
ples ; but now that times abound with variety of histories, 
it is better and more enlivening to draw from real life. But 
the method of writing best suited to so various and intricate 
a subject as the different occasions of civil business, is that 
which Machiavel chose for treating politics ; viz., by observa- 
tion or discourse upon histories and examples. b For the 
knowledge which is newly drawn, and, as it were, under our 
own eye, from particulars, best finds the way to particulars 
again. And doubtless it is much more conducive to practice 
that the discourse follow the example, than that the example 
follow the discourse : and this regards not only the order, 
but the thing itself; for when an example is proposed as the 
basis of a discourse, it is usually proposed with its whole 
apparatus of circumstances, which may sometimes correct and 
supply it ; whence it becomes as a model for imitation and 
practice; whilst examples, produced for the sake of the 

z Prov. xxvii. 19. a Ars Amandi, i. 760. 

b Discorso sopra Liv. 



CHAP. II.] WISDOM FOR ONE'S SELF. 317 

treatise, are but succinctly and nakedly quoted, and, as 
slaves, wholly attend the call of the discourse. 

It is worth while to observe this difference, that as the 
histories of times afford the best matter for discourses upon 
politics, such as those of Machiavel, c so the histories of lives 
are most advantageously used for instructions of business, 
because they contain all the possible variety of occasions and 
affairs, as well great as small. Yet a more commodious foun- 
dation may be had for the precepts of business than either 
of these histories, and that is, the discoursing upon prudent 
and serious epistles, such as those of Cicero to Atticus ; for 
epistles represent business nearer and more to the life 
than either annals or lives. And thus we have treated of 
the matter and form of the first part of the doctrine of 
business, which regards variety of occasions, and place it 
among the desiderata. 

There is another part of the doctrine of business differing 
as much from the former as the being wise in general, 
and the being wise for one's self; — the one seems to move as 
from the centre to the circumference, and the other as from 
the circumference to the centre. For there is a certain pru- 
dence of giving counsel to others, and another of looking to 
one's own affairs. Both these, indeed, are sometimes found 
united, but oftenest separate; as many are prudent in the 
management of their own private concerns, and weak in 
public administration, or the giving advice, like the ant, 
which is a wise creature for itself, but pernicious in a garden. 
This virtue of self -wisdom was not unknown even to the 
Romans, those great lovers of their country; whence, says 
the comedian, " the wise man forms his own fortune," — 

" Nam pol sapiens fingit fortunam sibi ;" d 
and they had it proverbial amongst them, — " Every man's 
fortune lies in his own hand," — " Faber quisque fortunse pro- 
prise." So Livy gives this character of the elder Cato : " Such 
was his force of mind and genius, that wherever he had 
been born he seemed formed for making his own fortune." e 

But if any one publicly professed or made open show of 

c Especially his II Principe, with the notes of Conringius, which was 
found in the carriage of Napoleon after the battle of Mont St. Jean, 
with the annotations of the emperor. Ed. 

d Plautus, Trinum. Act ii. sc. 2. v. 84. e Livy, xxxix. 40. 



318 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VIII. 

this kind of prudence, it was always accounted not only 
impolitic, but ominous and unfortunate, as was observed 
of Timotheus the Athenian, who, after having performed 
many great exploits for the honour and advantage of 
his country, and giving an account of his conduct to the 
people, as the manner then was, he concluded the several 
particulars thus: "And here fortune had no share;" 1 ' after 
which time nothing ever succeeded in his hands. This was, 
indeed, too arrogant and haughty, like that of Pharaoh in 
Ezekiel, " Thou sayest, The river is mine, and I made my- 
self ;"s or that of Habakkuk, "They rejoice, and sacrifice 
to their net;" 11 or, again, that of Mezentius, who called his 
hand and javelin his god; 

" Dextra mihi deus, et telum, quod missile libro, 
Nunc adsint ;"' 1 

or, lastly, that of Julius Caesar, the only time that we find 
him betraying his inward sentiments ; for when the Aruspex 
related to him that the entrails were not prosperous, he 
muttered softly, " They shall be better when I please," which 
was said not long before his unfortunate death. k And, indeed, 
this excessive confidence, as it is a profane thing, so it is 
always unhappy; whence great and truly wise men think 
proper to attribute all their successes to their felicity, and 
not to their virtue and industry. So Sylla styled himself 
happy, not great; and Caesar, at another time, more ad- 
visedly said to the pilot, " Thou carriest Caesar and his for- 
tune." 1 

But these expressions, — u Every one's fortune is in his 
own hand," " A wise man shall control the stars," " Every 
way is passable to virtue," &c, — if understood, and used 
rather as spurs to industry than as stirrups to insolence, and 
rather to beget in men a constancy and firmness of resolu- 
tion than arrogance and ostentation, they are deservedly 
esteemed sound and wholesome; and hence, doubtless, it is 
that they find reception in the breasts of great men, and make 

f Plut. Sylla. s Ezek. xxix. 3. h Habak. i. 15. 

5 ^neid, x. 773. k Suetonius. 

1 Plutarch. Compare with this a curious letter from Cato to Cicero 
(ap. Cic. ad Fam. xv. 5), wherein he says, " Supplicationem decretam, si 
tu, qua in re nihil fortuito, sed summa tua ratione et continentia reipub- 
licse, provisum est diis immortalibus gratulari nos quam tibi referre 
acceptum mavis gaudeo." 



CHAP. II.] ART OF RISING IX LIFE. 319 

it sometimes difficult for them to dissemble their thoughts; 
so we find Augustus Caesar, who was rather different from 
than inferior to his uncle, though doubtless a more moderate 
man, required his friends, as they stood about his death- 
bed, to give him their applause at his exit, m as if conscious to 
himself that he had acted Ins part well upon the stage of 
life. And this part of doctrine also is to be reckoned as 
deficient, not but that it has been much used and beaten in 
practice, though not taken notice of in books. Wherefore, 
according to our custom, we shall here set down some heads 
upon the subject, under the title of the Self-politician, or the 
Art of rising in Life. 

It may seem a new and odd kind of thing to teach men 
how to make their fortunes, — a doctrine which every one 
would gladly learn before he finds the difficulties of it; for 
the things required to procure fortune are not fewer or less 
difficult than those to procure virtue. It is as rigid and 
hard a thing to become a true politician as a true moralist, 
yet the treating of this subject nearly concerns the merit 
and credit of learning. It is of great importance to the 
honour of learning, that men of business should know eru- 
dition is not like a lark, which flies high and delights in 
nothing but singing, but that it is rather like a hawk, which 
soars aloft indeed, but can stoop when she finds it convenient 
to pounce upon her prey. Again, this also regards the per- 
fection of learning ; for the true rule of a perfect inquiry is, 
that nothing can be found in the material globe which has not 
its correspondent in the crystalline globe — the understanding, 
or that there is nothing found in practice which has not its 
particular doctrine and theory. But learning esteems the 
building of a private fortune as a work of an inferior kind ; 
for no man's private fortune can be an end any way worthy 
of his existence; nay, it frequently happens that men of 
eminent virtues renounce their fortune to pursue the things 
of a sublimer nature. Yet even private fortune, as it is the 
instrument of virtue and doing good, is a particular doctrine, 
worthy of consideration. 

This doctrine has its precepts, some whereof are summary 
or collective, and others scattered and various. The collective 
precepts are founded in a just knowledge, — 1. of ourselves; 

m Suetonius. 



320 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VIII- 

and, 2. of others. Let this, therefore, be the first whereon 
the knowledge of the rest principally turns, that we procure 
to ourselves, as far as possible, the window once required 
by Momus, who, seeing so many corners and recesses in the 
structure of the human heart, found fault that it should want 
a window, through which those dark and crooked turnings 
might be viewed. 11 This window may be procured by dili- 
gently informing ourselves of the particular persons we have 
to deal with, — their tempers, desires, views, customs, habits; 
the assistances, helps, and assurances whereon they principally 
rely, and whence they receive their power ; their defects and 
weaknesses, whereat they chiefly lie open and are accessible ; 
their friends, factions, patrons, dependants, enemies, enviers, 
rivals; their times and manner of access, — 

" Sola viri molles aditus et tempora noras;" 
their principles, and the rules they prescribe themselves, &c. 
But our information should not wholly rest in the persons, 
but also extend to the particular actions, which from time 
to time come upon the anvil; how they are conducted, with 
what success, by whose assistance promoted, by whom op- 
posed, of what weight and moment they are, and what their 
consequences. For a knowledge of present actions is not 
only very advantageous in itself, but without it the know- 
ledge of persons will be very fallacious and uncertain ; for 
men change along with their actions, and are one thing 
whilst entangled and surrounded with business, and another 
when they return to themselves. And these particular in- 
formations, with regard to persons as well as actions, are 
like the minor propositions in every active syllogism; ior no 
truth, nor excellence of observations or axioms, whence the 
major political propositions are formed, can give a firm con- 
clusion, if there be an error in the minor proposition. And 
that such a kind of knowledge is procurable, Solomon assures 
us, who says, that " counsel in the heart of man is like a 
deep water, but a wise man will draw it out;"P for although 
the knowledge itself does not fall under precept, because it 
regards individuals, yet instructions may be given of use for 
fetching it out. 

n Plato, Reip. ; Lucan, Hermot. xx. ; and Eras. Chil. i. 74. 
^Bneid, iv. 423. p Prov. xx. 5. 



CHAP. II.] HOW TO DISCERN CHARACTER. 321 

Men may be known six different ways ; viz., — 1. by their 
countenances; 2. their words; 3. their actions; 4. their 
tempers; 5. their ends; and, 6. by the relation of others. 
1. As to the countenance, there is no great matter in that 
old proverb, "Fronti nulla fides ;' ,( i for although this maybe 
said with some truth of the external and general composure 
of the countenance and gesture, yet there lie concealed cer- 
tain more subtile motions and actions of the eyes, face, looks, 
and behaviour, by which the gate, as it were, of the mind is 
unlocked and thrown open. r Who was more close than Tibe- 
rius ? yet Tacitus observes a difference between his inward 
thoughts and his language in eulogizing the exploits of 
Drusus and Germanicus, — thus characterizing his panegyric 
of the latter : "Magisin speciem verbis adorn atis quam ut peni- 
tus sentire credeietur;" and then that of Drusus, — "Pau- 
cioribus sed intentior, et fida oratione." s Again, Tacitus 
sketches the manner of the emperor on other occasions when 
he was less crafty, and sums up his remarks thus : " Quin 
ipse compositus alias atque velut eluctantium verborum; so- 
lutius promptiusque loquebatur quoties subveniret.'^ And 
indeed, it is hard to find so great and masterly a dissembler, 
or a countenance so well broke and commanded, as to carry 
on an artful and counterfeit discourse without some way or 
other betraying it. 

2. The words of men are full of deceit ; but this is well 
detected in two ways ; viz., either when words are spoken on 
the sudden, or in passion. So Tiberius, being suddenly sur- 
prised and hurried beyond himself, with a stinging speech 
from Agrippina, went a step out of his natural dissimula- 
tion; for, says Tacitus, she thus drew an uncommon expres- 
sion from his secret breast, and he rebuked her as being 
offended because she did not rule. u Whence the poet not 
unjustly calls these perturbations tortures, mankind being 
compelled by them to betray their own secrets. 
" Vino tortus et ira." x 



* Martial, i. Ep. 25, v. 4. r Cicero, Petit. Consulatus, § 2. 

6 Annals, i. 52. ' Annals, iv. 31. u Annals, iv. 52. 

x Hor. Ep. ii. 18, v. 38. It must be remembered that Augustus 
had some intention of conferring the empire upon her husband Ger- 
manicus. — Ed. 

2 Y 



322 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VIII. 

And experience shows that there are very few so true to 
their own secrets, and of so close a temper, as not sometimes, 
through anger, ostentation, love to a friend, impotence of 
mind, or some other affection, to reveal their own thoughts. 
But nothing searches all the corners of the mind so much as 
dissimulation practised against dissimulation, according to 
the Spanish proverb, " Tell a lie and find a truth." 

3. Even facts themselves, though the surest pledges of the 
human mind, are not altogether to be trusted, unless first 
attentively viewed and considered as to their magnitude and 
propriety ; for it is certain that deceit gets itself a credit in 
small things, that it may practise to more advantage in 
larger. And the Italian thinks himself upon the cross with 
the crier, or put up to sale, when, without manifest cause, he 
is treated better than usual; for small favours lull mankind, 
and disarm them both of caution and industry ; whence they 
are properly called by Demosthenes the baits of sloth. 
Again, we may clearly see the crafty and ambiguous nature 
of some actions which pass for benefits, from that trick 
practised by Mucianus upon Antony ; for after a pretended 
reconciliation he most treacherously advanced many of An- 
tony's friends to lieutenancies, tribuneships, &c, and by this 
cunning entirely disarmed and defeated him ; thus winning 
over Antony's friends to himself J 

But the surest key for unlocking the minds of others turns 
upon searching and sifting either their tempers and natures, 
or their ends and designs ; and the more weak and simple 
are best judged by their temper, but the more prudent and 
close by their designs. It was prudently and wittily, though 
in my judgment not substantially, advised by the pope's 
nuncio as to the choice of another to succeed him in his resi- 
dence at a foreign court, that they should by no means send 
one remarkably but rather tolerably wise ; because a man 
wiser than ordinary could never imagine what the people of 
that nation were likely to do. It is doubtless a common 
error, particularly in prudent men, to measure others by 
the model of their own capacity; whence they frequently 
overshoot the mark, by supposing that men project and form 
greater things to themselves, and practise more subtile arts 

y Tacit. Hist. iv. 39. 



CHAP. II.] HOW TO DISCERN CHARACTER. 323 

than ever entered their minds. This is elegantly intimated 
by the Italian proverb, — 

(< Di denari, di senno, e di fede, 
C ne manco che non crede ;" z 

and therefore, in men of small capacities, who commit many 
absurdities, a conjecture must rather be formed from the 
propensity of their nature than from their ends in view. 
Whence princes also, though for a quite different reason, are 
best judged by their tempers as private persons are by their 
ends; for princes, who are at the top of human desires, have 
seldom any ends to aspire after with ardour and perseve- 
rance, by the situation and distance whereof a direction and 
measure might be taken of their other actions. And this 
among others is a principal reason why their hearts, as the 
Scripture declares, are unsearchable. a But every private 
man is like a traveller, who proceeds intently to the end of 
his journey, where he sets up : hence one may tolerably 
conjecture what a private man will or will not do; for if a 
thing be conducive to his ends, it is probable he will do it ; 
and vice versa. And this information, from the diversity of 
the ends and natures of men, may be taken comparatively as 
well as simply, so as to discover what humour or disposition 
overrules the rest. Thus Tigellinus, when he found himself 
outdone by Turpilianus, in administering and suggesting to 
Nero's pleasures, searched, as Tacitus says, into the fears of 
Nero, and by this means got rid of his rival. b 

As for that second-hand knowledge of men's minds which 
is had from the relation of others, it will be sufficient to 
observe of it, that defects and vices are best learned from 
enemies, virtues and abilities from friends, manners and 
times from servants, and opinions and thoughts from inti- 
mate acquaintance; for popular fame is light, and the judg- 
ment of superiors uncertain, before whom men walk more 
masked and secret. The truest character comes from do- 
mestics, — " Verior fama e domesticis emanat." c 

z "There is always less money, less wisdom, and less honesty, than 
people imagine." a Prov. xxv. 3. 

b This expression occurs Tacit. Annal. xiv. 57. It is spoken, how- 
ever, of the intrigues of Tigellinus against Plautus and Sulla, by which 
he induced Nero to have both of them murdered. Petronius Turpilianus 
was put to death by Galba, because he had enjoyed Nero's confidence. 
Annal. xvi. 18, 19. c Cicero, Petit. Consul. 

y2 



324 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VIII. 

But the shortest way to this whole inquiry rests upon 
three particulars ; viz., — 1. In procuring numerous friend- 
ships with such as have an extensive and general knowledge 
both of men and things, or at least in securing a set of par- 
ticular friends, who, according to the diversity of occasions, 
may be always ready to give a solid information upon any 
point that shall turn up. 2. In observing a prudent mean 
and moderation between the freedom of discourse and silence, 
using frankness of speech most frequently ; but when the 
thing requires it, taciturnity; for openness of speech invites 
and excites others to use the same towards ourselves, which 
brings many things to our knowledge ; whilst taciturnity 
procures trust, and makes men willing to deposit their 
secrets with us as in their own bosom. 3. In gradually 
acquiring such a habit of watchfulness and intentness in all 
discourse and action, as at once to promote the business in 
hand, yet take notice of incidental matters ; for, as Epictetus 
would have a philosopher say to himself in every action, " I 
will do this, yet keep to my rule," d so a politician should 
resolve with himself in every business, " I will drive this 
point, and yet learn somewhat of future use." And, there- 
fore, such tempers as are wholly intent upon a present busi- 
ness without at all regarding what may intervene, which 
Montaigne acknowledges was his own defect, make excellent 
ministers of state, but fail in advancing their private for- 
tunes. A principal caution must also be had to restrain the 
impetuosity and too great alacrity of the mind, lest much 
knowledge should drive us on to meddle in many matters; 
lor nothing is more unfortunate and rash than such a proce- 
dure. Therefore the variety of knowledge to be here pro- 
cured of men and things comes but to this, that we make a 
judicious choice both of the matters we undertake and of the 
persons whose assistance we use, that we may thence know 
how to manage and dispose all tilings with the greater dex- 
terity and safety. 

Next to the knowledge of others comes the knowledge of 
ourselves; and it requires no less diligence, but rather more, 
to get a true and exact information of ourselves thanot* 
others. For that oracle, " Know thyself," is not only a rule 
of general prudence, but has also a principal place in politics. 

d Enchiridion, iv. 



CHAP. II.] SELF-KNOWLEDGE NECESSARY. 325 

And St. James excellently observes of mankind, that " he 
who views his face in a glass, instantly forgets his features." e 
Whence we had need be often looking. And this also holds 
in politics. But there is a difference in glasses, — the divine 
one, wherein we are to behold ourselves, is the Word of God ; 
but the political glass is no other than the state of things 
and times wherein we live. A man, therefore, must make a 
thorough examination, not partially like a self-lover, into his 
own faculties, powers, and abilities, and again into his defects, 
inabilities, and obstacles, summing up the account, so as to 
make the latter constantly appear greater, and the former 
rather less than they are. And upon such an examination 
the following particulars may come to be considered. 

Let the first particular be, how far a man's manners and 
temper suit with the times ; for if they agree in all respects, 
he may act more freely and at large, and follow the bent of 
his genius ; but if there be any contrariety, then he must walk 
more cautiously and covertly in the whole scene of his life, 
and ajDpear less in public, as Tiberius did, who, being con- 
scious that his temper suited not with the age, never fre- 
quented the public shows, and for the last twelve years of 
his life came not to the senate ; whereas Augustus lived con- 
tinually in open sight. f 

Let the second consideration be, how a man can relish the 
professions or kinds of life in use and repute, out of which 
he is to make a choice, so that if his profession be not already 
entei^ed upon, he may take that which is most suitable to his 
genius ; but if he be already got into a kind of life for which 
he is unfit, that he may, upon the first opportunity, quit it 
and take to another, — as Valentine Borgia did, who, being- 
educated by his father for the priesthood, afterwards re- 
nouuced, followed his own inclination, and appeared in a 
military character. 

Let a third consideration be, how a man stands compared 
with his equals and rivals, who may also probably be his 
competitors in his fortune, and let him hold that course of 
life in which there is the greatest want of eminent men, and 
wherein it is most likely that himself may rise the highest, 

e Ep. i. 23, 24. 

f The expression of Tacitus is, "alia Tiberio morum via." Annals, 
i. 54. 



326 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VIII. 

as Caesar did, who was first an orator, a pleader, and scarce 
anything more than a gownman; but when he found that 
Cicero, Hortensius, and Catullus bore away the prize of 
eloquence, and that none had greatly signalized themselves in 
war, except Pompey, he quitted the gown, and taking a long 
farewell of civil power, went over to the arts of the general 
and the emperor, whereby he rose to the top pinnae] e of 
sovereignty. 

Let the fourth consideration be, to regard one's own 
nature and temper in the choice of friends and dependants; 
for different men require different kinds of friends, — some 
those that are grave and secret, others such as are bold and 
ostentatious, &c. It is worth observing of what kind the 
friends of Julius Caesar were ; viz., Antony, Hirtius, Balbus, 
Dolobella, Pollio, &c, who usually swore to die that he might 
live ;S thereby expressing an infinite affection for Caesar, but 
an arrogance and contempt towards everybody else. And 
they were all men diligent in business, but of no great fame 
and reputation. 

Let a fifth consideration be, to beware of examples, and 
not fondly square one's self to the imitation of others, as if 
what was achieved by them must needs be achieved by us, 
without considering the difference there may be between 
our own disposition and manners compared with theirs we 
propose to imitate. Pompey manifestly fell into this error, 
who, as Cicero writes of him, had these words often in his 
mouth, — " Sylla could do this, why shall not I / ?" h In which 
particular he greatly imposed upon himself; for Sylla's tem- 
per and method of acting differed infinitely from his, — the 
one's being fierce, violent, and pressing to the end, the other's 
composed, mindful of the laws, and directing all to majesty 
and reputation ; whence he was greatly curbed and restrained 
in executing his designs. And these considerations may 
serve as a specimen of the rest. 

But it is not enough for a man to know himself; he must 
also consider how he may most commodiously and prudently 
— 1. show, 2. express, 3. wind and fashion himself. 1. As 
for show, we see nothing more frequent in life than for the 
less capable man to make the greater figure. It is, therefore, 
no small excellence of prudence, by means of a certain act 

& Ita vivente Csesare moriar. h Epist. Atticus, ix. Ep. 10. 



CHAP. II.] ADVANTAGE OF OSTENTATION. 327 

and grace, to represent one's best side to others, by setting 
out our own virtues, merits, and fortunes to advantage, which 
may be done without arrogance or rendering one's self dis- 
agreeable ; and on the other side artificially concealing our 
vices, defects, misfortunes, and disgraces, dwelling upon the 
former, and turning them as it were to the light, but pal- 
liating the latter, or effacing them by a well-adapted con- 
struction or interpretation, &c. Hence Tacitus says of Mu- 
cianus, the most prudent man of his time and the most 
indefatigable in business, that " he had an art of showing the 
fair side of whatever he spoke or acted." 1 And certainly it 
requires some art to prevent this conduct from becoming 
fulsome and despicable ; yet ostentation, though to the first 
degree of vanity, is a fault in ethics rather than in politics. 
For as it is usually said of calumny, that if laid on boldly 
some of it will stick, so it may be said of ostentation, unless 
joerfectly monstrous and ridiculous, " Paint yourself strongly, 
and some of it will last." Doubtless it will dwell with the 
crowd, though the wiser sort smile at it ; so that the reputa- 
tion procured with, the number will abundantly reward the 
contempt of a few. But if this ostentation be managed with 
decency and discretion, it may greatly contribute to raise a 
man's reputation, as particularly if it carry the appearance 
of native candour and ingenuity, or be used at times sur- 
rounded with dangers, as among the military men in time of 
war. Or again, if our own praises are let fall as it were 
by accident, and be not too seriously or largely insisted on, 
or if any one, in praising himself, at the same time mixes it 
with censure and ridicule, or lastly, if he does it not sponta- 
neously, but is provoked to it by the insolence and reproach 
of others. And there are many wdio, being by nature solid, 
and consequently wanting in this art of spreading canvas to 
their own honour, find themselves punished for their mo- 
desty, with some diminution of their dignity. 

But however persons of weak judgment or too rigid morals 
may disallow this ostentation of virtue, no one will deny that 
we should endeavour to keep virtue from being undervalued 
through our neglect, and less esteemed than it deserves. This 
diminution in the esteem of virtue happens three ways ; viz., 
1. When a person presents and thrusts himself and his ser- 

1 Hist. ii. 80. 



328 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VIII. 

vice into a business unasked; for such services are thought 
sufficiently rewarded by accepting them. 2. When a man 
at the beginning of a business over-exerts himself, and per- 
forms that all at once, which should have been done gra- 
dually ; though this, indeed, gains early commendation where 
affairs succeed ; but in the end it produces satiety. 3. When 
a man is too quick and light in receiving the fruit of his 
virtue — in praise, applause, and favour, — and pleases himself 
therewith ; against which there is this prudent admonition, 
" Beware lest thou seem unaccustomed to great things, if 
such small ones delight thee." 

A diligent concealment of defects is no less important 
than a prudent and artful manifestation of virtues. Defects 
are principally concealed and covered under three cloaks ; 
viz. 1. Caution, 2. Pretext, and 3. Assurance. 1. We call 
that caution, when a man prudently keeps from meddling in 
matters to which he is unequal ; whilst, on the other hand, 
daring and restless spirits are injudiciously busying them- 
selves in things they are not acquainted with, and thereby 
publish and proclaim their own defects. 2. We call that 
pretext, when a man with sagacity and prudence paves and 
prepares himself a way for securing a favourable and com- 
modious interpretation of his vices and defects; as proceeding 
from different principles, or having a different tendency than 
is generally thought. For as to the concealment of vices, 
the poet said well, that vice often skulks in the verge of 
virtue. 

" Ssspe latet vitium proximate bomV'J 

Therefore, when we find any defect in ourselves, we must 
endeavour to borrow the figure and pretext of the neighbour- 
ing virtue for a shelter ; thus the pretext of dulness is gravity ; 
that of indolence, considerateness, &c. And it is of service 
to give out some probable reason for not exerting our utmost 
strength, and so make a necessity appear a virtue. 3. Assur- 
ance, indeed, is a daring, but a very certain and effectual 
remedy, whereby a man professes himself absolutely to slight 
and despise those things he could not obtain, like crafty 
merchants, who usually raise the price of their own com- 
modities and sink the price of other men s. Though there 
is another kind of assurance, more impudent than this, by 
J Ovid, Ars Amand. i. 661. 



CHAP. II.] DISSIMULATION SOMETIMES IMPOLITIC. 329 

which a man brazens out his own defects, and forces them 
upon others for excellencies ; and the better to secure this 
end, he will feign a distrust of himself in those things wherein 
he really excels : like poets, who, if you except to any par- 
ticular verse in their composition, will presently tell you that 
single line cost them more pains than all the rest ; and then 
produce you another, as suspected by themselves, for your 
opinion ; whilst, of all the number, they know it to be the 
best and least liable to exception. But above all, nothing 
conduces more to the well-representing a man's self, and 
securing his own right, than not to disarm one's self by too 
much sweetness and good-nature, which exposes a man to 
injuries and reproaches ; but rather, in all cases, at times, to 
dart out some sparks of a free and generous mind, that have 
no less of the sting than the honey. This guarded behaviour, 
attended with a ready disposition to vindicate themselves, 
some men have from accident and necessity, by means of 
somewhat inherent in their person or fortune, as we find in 
the deformed, illegitimate, and disgraced ; who, if they do 
not want virtue, generally prove fortunate. 

The expressing or declaring of a man's self is a very 
different thing from the showing himself, as not relating to 
virtue, but to the particular actions of life. And here no- 
thing is more politic than to preserve a prudent or sound 
moderation or medium in disclosing or concealing one's mind 
as to particular actions. For though profound silence, the 
hiding of counsels, and managing all things by blind and 
deaf artifice, is an useful and extraordinary thing ; yet it 
often happens that dissimulation produces errors which 
prove snares. And we see that the men of greatest repute 
for politics, scruple not openly and generously to declare 
their ends without dissimulation : thus Sylla openly declared, 
" He wished all mortals happy or unhappy, as they were his 
friends or enemies." k So Cassar, upon his first expedition into 
Gaul, professed "he had rather be the first man in an obscure 
village, than the second at Rome." 1 And when the war was 
begun, he proved no dissembler, if Cicero says truly of him, 
" That he did not refuse, but in a manner required to be 
called tyrant, as he was." m So we find, in an epistle of 
Cicero to Atticus, how little of a dissembler Augustus was, 

k Plut. ■ Plut. m Epist. ad Att. x. Ep. iv. 



330 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VIII. 

who, at his first entrance upon affairs, whilst he remained the 
delight of the senate, used to swear in this form when he 
harangued the people : " Ita Parentis honores consequi 
liceat :" n which was no less than tyranny itself. It is true, 
to salve the matter a little, he would at those times stretch 
his hand towards the statue of Julius Csesar erected in 
the place, whilst the audience smiled, applauded, admired, 
and cried out among themselves, " What does the youth 
mean?" but never suspected him of any ill design, who 
thus candidly and ingenuously spoke his mind. And yet all 
these we have named were prosperous men. Pompey, on the 
other hand, who endeavoured at the same ends by more dark 
and concealed methods,P wholly bent himself, by numberless 
stratagems, to cover his desires and ambition, whilst he 
brought the state to confusion, that it might then of necessity 
submit to him, and he thus procure the sovereignty to appear- 
ance against his will. And when he thought he had gained 
his point, as being made sole consul, which no one ever was 
before him, he found himself never the nearer, because those 
who would doubtless have assisted him, understood not his 
intentions ; so that at length he was obliged to go in the 
beaten path, and under pretence of opposing Ctesar, procured 
himself arms and an army : so slow, casual, and generally 
unsuccessful, are the counsels covered with dissimulation ! 
And Tacitus seems to have had the same sentiment, when he 
makes the artifice of dissimulation an inferior prudence, 
compared with policy, attributing the former to Tiberius, and 
the latter to Augustus ; for speaking of Li via, he says, "She 
was well tempered with the arts of her husband, and the 
dissimulation of her son.' ,( i 

As for the bending and forming of the mind, we should 
doubtless do our utmost to render it pliable, and by no 
means stiff and refractory to occasions and opportunities ; 
for to continue the same men, when we ought not, is the 
greatest obstacle business can meet with ; that is, if men 
remain as they did, and follow their own nature after the 
opportunities are changed. 1 Whence Livy, introducing the 
elder Cato as a skilful architect of his own fortune, adds, 

n B. xvi. Ep. 15. ° Ore probo, animo inverecundo. Sallust. 

p Occultior, non melior. Tacit. Hist. ii. c. 38. 

i Annals, v. 1. r Cic. in Brut, speaking of Hortensius, c. 95. 



CHAP. II.] PRECEPTS FOR RISING IN LIFE. 331 

that "he was of a pliant temper :" s and hence it is, that 
grave, solemn, and unchangeable natures generally meet with 
more respect than felicity. This defect some men have im- 
planted in them by nature, as being in themselves stifij 
knotty, and unfit for bending ; but in others it is acquired 
by custom, which is a second nature, or from an opinion, 
which easily steals into men's minds, that they should never 
change the method of acting they had once found good and 
prosperous. Thus Machiavel prudently observes of Fabius 
Maximus, " That he would obstinately retain his old inve- 
terate custom of delaying and protracting the war, when now 
the nature was changed and required brisker measures." * In 
others again, the same defect proceeds from want of judg- 
ment, when men do not seasonably distinguish the periods 
of things and actions, but alter too late, after the opportunity 
is slipped. And something of this kind Demosthenes repre- 
hended in the Athenians, when he said, " They were like 
rustics in a fencing-school, who always, after a blow, guard 
the part that was hit, and not before." 11 And lastly, tins 
defect in others, because they are unwilling that the labour 
they have taken in the way once entered should be lost, and 
know not how to sound a retreat, but rather trust they shall 
conquer occasions by perseverance. But this obstinacy and 
restiveness of the mind, from whatever root it proceeds, is 
highly prejudicial to business and men's private fortunes : on 
the contrary, nothing is more politic than to make the wheels 
of the mind concentric with the wheels of fortune, and 
capable of turning together with them. And thus much of 
the two summary or collective precepts for advancing one's 
fortune. 

The scattered precepts for rising in life are numerous : we 
shall single out a few by way of example. The first is, that 
the builder of his fortune properly use and apply his rule, 
that is, accustom his mind to measure and estimate the price 
and value of things, as they conduce more or less to his par- 
ticular fortune and ends, and this with diligence, not by 
halves. It is surprising, yet very true, that many have the 
logical part of their mind set right and the mathematical 
wrong, and judge truly of the consequences of things, but 
very unskilfully of their value. Hence some men are fond 

s B. xxxix. 40. x Discorso sopra Liv. u Philippic i. 



332 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VIII. 

of access to and familiarity with princes ; others of popular 
fame, and fancy these to be great enjoyments : whereas botli 
of them are frequently full of envy and dangers. Others, 
again, measure things according to their difficulty and the 
labour bestowed in procuring them, imagining themselves 
must needs have advanced as far as they have moved. So 
Caesar, to describe how diligent and indefatigable the younger 
Cato was to little purpose, said in the way of irony, " That 
he did all things with great labour." And hence it happens, 
that men frequently deceive themselves, when, having the 
assistance of some great or honourable personage, they 
promise themselves all manner of success ; whilst the truth 
is, they are not the greatest, but the fittest instruments that 
perform business best and quickest. For improving the true 
mathematics of the mind, it should be principally noted what 
ought to come first, what second, &c. in the raising and pro- 
moting a man's fortune. And, in the first place, we set down 
the emendation of the mind ; for by removing the obstacles, 
and levelling the inequalities of the mind, a way may be 
sooner opened to fortune, than the impediments of the mind 
be removed with the assistance of fortune. And, in the 
second place, we set down riches, whereto most, perhaps, 
would have assigned the first, as their use is so extensive. 
But we condemn this opinion for a reason like that of 
Machiavel in a similar case ; for though it was an established 
notion, that " Money is the sinews of war," he said, more 
justly, that "War had no sinews but those of good soldiers." 
In the same manner, it may be truly affirmed that the sinews 
of fortune are not money, but rather the powers of the mind, 
address, courage, resolution, intrepidity, perseverance, modera- 
tion, industry, &c. In the third place come fame and repu- 
tation ; and this the rather, because they have certain tides 
and seasons, wherein, if they be not opportunely used, it will 
be difficult to recover them again ; for it is a hopeless attempt 
to recover a lost reputation. In the last place, we set down 
honours, which are easier acquired by any of the former 
three, much more by a conjunction of them all, than any one 
of them can be procured by honours. But as much depends 
upon observing the order of things, so likewise in observing 
the order of time, in disturbing of which men frequently err 
and hasten to the end, when they should only have consulted 



CHAP. II.] PRECEPTS FOR RISING IN LIFE. 333 

the beginning, and suddenly flying at the greatest things of 

all, rashly skip over those in the middle — thus neglecting the 

useful precept, "Attend to what is immediately before you," — 

" Quod nunc instat agamus." x 

Our second precept is, to beware of being carried by great- 
ness and presumption of mind to things too difficult, and 
thus of striving against the stream. It is a prudent advice, 
in the raising of one's fortune, to yield to necessity. 

" Fatis accede, deisque."? 
Let us look all round us, and observe where things lie open, 
where they are inclosed and blocked up, where they stoop, 
and where they mount, and not misemploy our strength 
where the way is impassable : in doing this we shall prevent 
repulse, not stick too long in particulars, win a reputation of 
being moderate, give little offence, and lastly, gain an opinion 
of felicity ; whilst the things that would probably have 
happened of themselves, will be attributed to our own 
industry. 

A third precept, which seems somewhat to cross the 
former, though not when well understood, is, that we do not 
always wait for opportunities, but sometimes excite and lead 
them. This Demosthenes intimates in a high strain, when he 
says, " That as it is a maxim for the general to lead his army, 
so a wise man should lead things, make them execute his 
will, and not himself be obliged to follow events." 2 And if 
we attend, we shall find two different kinds of men held 
equal to the management of affairs ; for some know how to 
make an advantageous use of opportunities, yet contrive or 
project nothing of themselves ; whilst others are wholly in- 
tent upon forming schemes, and neglect the laying hold of 
opportunities as they offer : but either of these faculties is 
quite lame without the other. 

It is a fourth precept to undertake nothing that neces- 
sarily requires much time, but constantly to remember time 
is ever on the wing, — 

" Sed fugit interea, fugit irreparabile tempus."* 
And the only reason why those who addict themselves to 
toilsome professions and employs, as lawyers, authors, <fec, are 

* Virg. Eclog. ix. 66. 

y Lucan, viii. 486. Quoted also by Jeremy Taylor in his "Life of 
Christ," Preface. z Philippic i" 51. a Georg. iii. 284. 



334 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VIII. 

less versed in making their fortune, is the want of time from 
their other studies to gain a knowledge of particulars, wait 
for opportunities, and project their own rising. We see in 
the courts of princes the mosb effectual men in making their 
own fortunes, and invading the fortunes of others, are such 
as have no public employ, but are continually plotting their 
own rise and advantage. 

A fifth precept is, that we in some measure imitate nature, 
which does nothing in vain ; and this is not very difficult, if 
we skilfully mix and interlace our affairs of all kinds : for in 
every action the mind is to be so instructed and prepared, 
and our intentions to be so dependent upon and subordinate 
to each other, that if we cannot gain the highest step, we 
may contentedly take up with the second, or even the third. 
But if we can fix on no part of our prospect, then we should 
direct the pains we have been at to some other end ; so, as 
if we receive no benefit for the present, yet at least to gain 
somewhat of future advantage. But if we can obtain no 
solid good from our endeavours neither in present nor in 
future, let us endeavour at least to gain a reputation by it, 
or some one thing or other ; always computing with ourselves, 
that from every action we receive some advantage more or 
less, and by no means suffering the mind to despond or be 
astonished when we fail of our principal end. For there is 
nothing more contrary to political prudence than to be 
wholly intent upon any single thing, as he who is so must 
lose numberless opportunities which come sideways in busi- 
ness, and which perhaps would be more favourable and con- 
ducive to the things that shall turn up hereafter, than to 
those that were before pursued. Let men therefore well 
understand the rule — " These things should be done, but 
those should not be omitted." b 

The sixth precept is, that we do not too peremptorily 
oblige ourselves to anything, though it seem at first sight not 
liable to contingency ; but always reserve a window open to 
fly out, or some secret back-door for retreat. 

A seventh precept is, that old one of Bias, provided it be not 
used treacherously, but only by way of caution and moderation 
— w Love your friend as if he were to become an enemy, and 

b Which is inculcated by ancient as well as modern wisdom. Epic. 
Enckir. and Matt. xx. 23, and Luke xi. 42. Ed. 



CHAP. IT.] CORRUPT PRECEPTS NOT REQUIRED. 335 

hate your enemy as if he were to become your friend : " c for 
it surprisingly betrays and corrupts all sorts of utility, to 
plunge one's self too far in unhappy friendships, vexations, 
and turbulent quarrels, or childish and empty emulations. 
And so much, by way of example, upon the doctrine or art 
of rising in life. 

We are well aware that good fortune may be had upon 
easier conditions than are here laid down ; for it falls almost 
spontaneously upon some men, whilst others procure it only 
by diligence and assiduity, without much art, though still 
with some caution. But as Cicero, when he draws the per- 
fect orator, does not mean that every pleader either could or 
should be like him ; and as in describing the prince or the 
politician, which some have undertaken, the model is formed 
to the perfect rules of art, and not according to common 
life — the same method is observed by us in this sketch of the 
self-politician. 

It must be observed that the precepts we have laid clown 
upon this subject are all of them lawful, and not such 
immoral artifices as Machiavel speaks of, who directs men to 
have little regard for virtue itself, but only for the show and 
public reputation of it : " Because," says he, " the credit and 
opinion of virtue are a help to a man, but virtue itself a 
hinderance." d He also directs his politician to ground all his 
prudence on this supposition, that men cannot be truly and 
safely worked to his purpose but by fear, and therefore 
advises him to endeavour, by all possible means, to subject 
them to dangers and difficulties. Whence his politician may 
seem to be what the Italians call a sower of thorns. e So 
Cicero cites this principle, " Let our friends fall, provided our 
enemies perish ;" f upon which the triumvirs acted, in pur- 
chasing the death of their enemies by the destruction of their 
nearest friends. So Catiline became a disturber and incen- 
diary of the state, that he might the better fish his fortune 
in troubled waters, declaring, that if his fortune was set on 

c Arist. Rhet. ii. 13, 4 ; and cf. Cic. Lsel. xvi. Canning, in one of 
his speeches, condemns this principle as unworthy of an honourable 
mind. But it undoubtedly contains much wisdom, when it is restricted 
to the moderation of the affections. Ed. 

d Libro del Principe. e II seminatore delle spine. 

f Cadant amici, dummodo inimici intercidant. Orat. pro reg. Deiot. 



336 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK Vlli. 

fire, he would quench it, not with water, but destruction. & 
And so Lysander would say, that children were to be decoyed 
with sweetmeats and men by false oaths ; and there are 
numerous other corrupt and pernicious maxims of the same 
kind, more indeed, as in all other cases, than of such as are 
just and sound. Now if any man delight in this corrupt or 
tainted prudence, we deny not but he may take a short cut 
to fortune, as being thus disentangled and set at large from 
all restraint of laws, good-nature, and virtue, and having no 
regard but to his own promotion — though it is in life as in a 
journey, where the shortest road is the dirtiest, and yet the 
better not much about. 

But if men were themselves, and not carried away with 
the tempest of ambition, they would be so far from studying 
these wicked arts, as rather to view them, not only in that 
general map of the world, which shows all to be vanity and 
vexation of spirit, 11 but also in that more particular one, 
which represents a life separate from good actions as a curse ; 
that the more eminent this life, the greater the curse ; that 
the noblest reward of virtue is virtue itself; that the ex- 
tremest punishment of vice is vice itself ; and that as Virgil 
excellently observes, v good actions are rewarded, as bad ones 
also are punished — by the consciousness that attends them. 

" Quae vobis, quae digna, viri, pro laudibus istis 
Prasmia posse rear solvi ? Pulcherrima primum 
Dii moresque dabunt vestri."' 

And indeed, whilst men are projecting and every way rack- 
ing their thoughts to provide and take care for their fortunes, 
they ought, in the midst of all, to have an eye to the Divine 
Providence, which frequently overturns and brings to naught 
the machinations and deep devices of the wicked, according 
to that of the Scripture, "He has conceived iniquity, and 
shall bring forth vanity." k And although men were not in 
this pursuit to practise injustice and unlawful arts, yet a con- 
tinual and restless search and striving after fortune, takes 
up too much of their time, who have nobler things to observe, 
and prevents them from paying their tribute to God, who 
exacts from all men the tenth part of their substance and the 
seventh of their time. Even the heathens observed, that 

s Cicero pro L. Mursena, and Cat. Conspir. 31. h Eccles. i. 2—14. 

1 ^Eneid, ix. 252. k Psal. vii. 15, but in another sense. 



CHAP. II.J RELIGION NOT TO BE NEGLECTED. 337 

man was not made to keep his mind always on the ground ; 
and, like the serpent, eating the dust, — 

" Atque affigit humo divinas particulam aurse." 1 
And again — 

" Os homini sublime dedit, coelumque tueri 
Jussit ; et erectos ad sidera tollere vultus." m 

Some, however, may natter themselves, that, by what 
sinister means soever their fortune be procured, they are 
determined to use it well when obtained ; when it was said 
oi Augustus Caesar and Septimus Severus, that " they ought 
never to have been born, or never to have died :" so much 
evil they committed in aspiring, and so much good they did 
when seated. But let such men know that this recompensing 
of evil with good, though it may be approved after the 
action, yet is justly condemned in the design. Lastly, it may 
not be amiss, in this eager pursuit of fortune, for men to cool 
themselves a little with the saying of Charles the Fifth to 
his son ; viz. " Fortune is like the ladies, who generally scorn 
and discard their over-earnest admirers." But this last 
remedy belongs to such as have their taste vitiated by a 
disease of the mind. Let mankind rather rest upon the 
corner-stone of divinity and philosophy, both which nearly 
agree in the thing that ought first to be sought. For 
Divinity says, " Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and all 
other things shall be added unto you :" n so philosophy directs 
us first to seek the goods of the mind, and the rest will 
either be supplied, or are not much wanted. For although 
this foundation, laid by human hands, is sometimes placed 
upon the sand, as in the case of Brutus, who, at his death, 
cried out, " O virtue, I have reverenced thee as a being, but 
alas, thou art an empty name !"° yet the same foundation is 
ever, by the Divine hand, fixed upon a rock. And here we 
conclude the doctrine of rising in life, and the general doc- 
trine of business, together. 

1 Hor. Sat. ii. 79. m Ovid. Metam. i. 85. n Matt. vi. 33-. 

° T Q rXijfxov apETrj, \6yog dp* rjuO'' iyuj ok as 
*Qg tpyov tjcxkovp' gv 6' dp' tdovXtvtg royf). — Dio. Cass, xlvii. 49. 



338 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VIII* 



CHAPTER III. 

The Arts of Empire or State Policy omitted. Two Deficiencies alone 
noticed. The Art 01 Enlarging the Bounds of Empire, and the 
Knowledge of Universal Justice drawn from the Fountains of Law. 

We come now* to the art of empire, or the doctrine of 
governing a state, which includes economics, as a city in- 
cludes a family. But here, according to my former reso- 
lution, I impose silence upon myself; how well qualified 
soever I might seem to treat the subject, from the constant 
course of life, studies, employs, and the public posts I have, 
for a long series of years, sustained, even to the highest 
in the kingdom, which, through his majesty's favour, and no 
merit of my own, I held for four years. And this I speak 
to posterity, not out of ostentation; but because I judge it 
may somewhat import the dignity of learning, to have a man 
born for letters rather than anything else, who should, by 
a certain fatality, and against the bent of his genius, be com- 
pelled into active life, and yet be raised, by a prudent king, 
to the greatest posts of honour, trust, and civil employ. 
And if I should hereafter have leisure to write upon govern- 
ment, the work will probably either be posthumous or abor- 
tive. But in the mean time, having now seated all the 
sciences, each in its proper place, lest such a high chair as 
that of government should remain absolutely vacant, we here 
observe, that two parts of civil doctrine, though belonging 
not to the secrets of state, but of a more open and vulgar 
nature, are deficient, and shall, therefore, in our manner, 
give specimens for supplying them. 

The art of government includes the political offices ; viz., 
1. the preservation ; 2. the happiness ; and 3. the enlarge- 
ment of a state. The two former have, in good measure, 
been excellently treated by some ; a but there is nothing 
extant upon the last ; which we, therefore, note as deficient, 
and propose the following sketch, by way of example, for 
supplying it, under the title of the Military Statesman, or the 
Doctrine of extending the Bounds of Empire. 



a For an account of these authors, see Morhofs " Polyhist." torn. iii. 
De Prudentiae Civilis Scriptoribus ; and " Stollii Introduct. in Hist. Li- 
teral". " cap. v. De Prudentia Politica. 



CHAP. III.] ART OP ENLARGING KINGDOMS. 339 

THE MILITARY STATESMAN ; 

OR, A SPECIMEN OF THE DOCTRINE OF ENLARGING THE BOUNDS OF 

EMPIRE. 

The saying of Themistocles, if applied to himself, was 
indecent and haughty; but if meant in general, contains a 
very prudent observation, and as grave a censure. Being 
asked, at a feast, to touch a lute, he answered, " He could 
not fiddle ; but he could raise a small village to a great city." b 
Which words, if taken in a political sense, excellently de- 
scribe and distinguish two very different faculties in those 
who are at the helm of states. For upon an exact survey, 
we shall find some, though but very few, that, being raised 
to the council-board, the senate, or other public office, can 
enlarge a small state, or city, and yet have little skill in 
music ; but many more, who, having a good hand upon the 
harp, or the lute, that is, at the trifles of a court, are so far 
from enlarging a state, that they rather seem designed by 
nature to overturn and ruin it, though ever so happy and 
flourishing. And, indeed, those base arts and tricks by 
which many counsellors and men of great place procure the 
favour of their sovereign, and a popular character, deserve 
no other name than a certain knack of fiddling ; as being 
things more pleasing for the present, and more ornamental 
to the practitioner, than useful, and suited to enlarge the 
bounds, or increase the riches of the state, whereof they are 
ministers. Again, there are, doubtless, counsellors and 
governors, who, though equal to business, and of no con- 
temptible abilities, may commodiously manage things so as 
to preserve them from manifest precipices and inconveniences, 
though they by no means have the creative power of building 
and extending an empire. But whatever the workmen be, 
let us regard the work itself; viz., what is to be deemed the 
true extent of kingdoms and republics, and by what means 
this may be procured — a subject well deserving to lie con- 
tinually before princes, for their diligent meditation ; lest, 
by over-rating their own strength, they should rashly engage 
in too difficult and vain enterprises, or, thinking too meanly 
of their power, submit to timorous and effeminate counsels. 

The greatness of an empire, in point of bulk and territory 
is subject to mensuration, and for its revenue, to calculation. 
b Plutarch, Tus. Qusest. b. i. 2. 
Z2 



340 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. . [BOOK VIII. 

The number of inhabitants may be known by valuation or 
tax, and the number and extent of cities and towns, by sur- 
vey and maps ; yet in all civil affairs there is not a thing 
more liable to error than the making a true and intrinsic 
estimate of the strength and riches of a state. The kingdom 
of heaven is compared, not to an acorn, or any large nut, but 
to a grain of mustard-seed ; which, though one of the least 
grains, has in it a certain quick property, and native spirit, 
whereby it rises soon, and spreads itself wide : so some states 
of very large compass are little suited to extend their limits, 
or procure a wider command, whilst others of small dimen- 
sion prove the foundations of the greatest monarchies. 

Fortified towns, well-stored arsenals, noble breeds of war- 
horses, armed chariots, elephants, engines, all kinds of artillery, 
arms, and the like, are nothing more than a sheep in a lion's 
skin, unless the nation itself be, from its origin and temper, 
stout and warlike. Nor is number of troops itself of any 
great service, where the soldiers are weak and enervate : for, 
as Virgil well observes, " The wolf cares not how large the 
flock is." c The Persian army in the plains of Arbela, ap- 
peared to the eyes of the Macedonians as an immense ocean 
of people ; insomuch that Alexanders leaders, being struck 
at the sight, counselled their general to fall upon them by 
night ; but he replied, " I will not steal the victory :" d and 
it was found an easier conquest than he expected. Tigranes, 
encamped upon a hill, with an army of four hundred thou- 
sand men, seeing the Roman army, consisting but of fourteen 
thousand, making up to him, he jested at it, and said, " Those 
men are too many for an embassy, but much too few for a 
battle :" e yet before sunset he found them enough to give him 
chase, with infinite slaughter. And we have abundant exam- 
ples of the great inequality betwixt number and strength. 
This, therefore, may be first set down as a sure and certain 
maxim, and the capital of all the rest, with regard to the 
greatness of a state, that the people be of a military race/ 
or both by origin and disposition warlike. The sinews of 
war are not money, if the sinews of men's arms be wanting, 
as they are in a soft and effeminate nation. It was a just 
answer of Solon to Croesus, who showed him all his treasure : 

c Eclog. vii. 52. d Quintus Curtius, iv. 15, and Plutarch. 

e Plut. Lucul. f Machi. Discorso sopra Livio, lib. ii. 



CHAP. III.] A MILITARY TEMPER NECESSARY. 341 

" Yes, sir, but if another should come with better iron than 
you, he would be master of all this gold." s And, therefore, 
all princes whose native subjects are not hardy and military, 
should make a very modest estimate of their power ; as, on 
the other hand, those who rule a stout and martial people, 
may well enough know their own strength, if they be not 
otherwise wanting to themselves. As to hired forces, which 
is the usual remedy when native forces are wanting, there 
are numerous examples, which clearly show, that whatever 
state depends upon them, though it may perhaps for a time 
extend its feathers beyond its nest, yet they will mew soon 
after. 

The blessing of Juclah and Issachar can never meet ; so 
that the same tribe, or nation, should be both the lion's 
whelp, and the ass under the burden : h nor can a people, 
overburdened with taxes, ever be strong and warlike. It is 
true, that taxes levied by public consent less dispirit and 
sink the minds of the subject than those imposed in absolute 
governments ; as clearly appears by what is called excise in the 
Netherlands, and in some measure by the contributions called 
the subsidies in England. We are now speaking of the minds, 
and not of the wealth of the people : for tributes by consent, 
though the same thing with tributes imposed, as to exhaust- 
ing the riches of a kingdom, yet very differently affect the 
minds of the subject. So that this also must be a maxim of 
state, " That a people oppressed with taxes is unfit to rule." 

States and kingdoms that aspire to greatness, must be very 
careful that their nobles and gentry increase not too much ; 
otherwise, the common people will be dispirited, reduced to 
an abject state, and become little better than slaves to the 
nobility : as we see in coppices, if the staddles are left too 
numerous, there will never be clean underwood ; but the 
greatest part degenerates into shrubs and bushes. So in 
nations, where the nobility is too numerous, the commonalty 
will be base and cowardly ; and, at length, not one head in a 
hundred among them prove fit for a helmet, especially with 
regard to the infantry, which is generally the prime strength 
of an army. Whence, though a nation be full-peopled, its 
force may be small. We need no clearer proof of this than 
by comparing England and France. For though England 
e Plut. h Genesis xlix. 9, 14. 



342 ADVANCEMENT OF LEAKNING. [BOOK VIII. 

be far inferior in extent and number of inhabitants, yet it 
has almost constantly got the better of France in war : for 
this reason, that the rustics, and lower sort of people in Eng- 
land, make better soldiers than the peasants of France. And 
in this respect it was a very political and deep foresight of 
Henry the Seventh of England, to constitute lesser settled 
farms, and houses of husbandry, with a certain fixed and 
inseparable proportion of land annexed, sufficient for a life 
of plenty : so that the proprietors themselves, or at least the 
renters, and not hirelings, might occupy them. For thus a 
nation may acquire that character which Yirgil gives of 
ancient Italy : "A country strong in arms, and rich of soil," — 
" Terra potens armis, atque ubere glebse." 1 

We must not here pass over a sort of people, almost peculiar 
to England, viz., the servants of our nobles and gentry ; as 
the lowest of this kind are no way inferior to the yeomanry 
for foot-service. And it is certain that the hospitable mag- 
nificence and splendour, the attendance and large train, in 
use among the nobility and gentry of England, add much to 
our military strength ; as, on the other hand, a close retired 
life among the nobility causes a want of forces. 

It must be earnestly endeavoured, that the tree of monar- 
chy, like the tree of Nebuchadnezzar, have its trunk suffi- 
ciently large and strong, to support its branches and leaves ; 
or that the natives be sufficient to keep the foreign subjects 
under : whence those states best consult their greatness, 
which are liberal of naturalization. For it were vain to 
think a handful of men, how excellent soever in spirit and 
counsel, should hold large and spacious countries under the 
yoke of empire. This, indeed, might perhaps be done for a 
season, but it cannot be lasting. The Spartans were reserved 
and difficult in receiving foreigners among them ; and, there- 
fore, so long as they ruled within their own narrow bounds, 
their affairs stood firm and strong ; but soon after they began 
to widen their borders, and extend their dominion farther 
than the Spartan race could well command the foreign crowd, 
their power sunk of a sudden. Never did commonwealth 
receive new citizens so profusely as the Roman ; whence its 
fortune was equal to so prudent a conduct : and thus the 

1 JSneid, i. 531. 



CHAP. III.] SEDENTARY ARTS ENERVATE. 343 

Romans acquired the most extensive empire on the globe. 
It was their custom to give a speedy denization, and in the 
highest degree ; that is, not only a right of commerce of 
marriage and inheritance, but also the right of suffrage, 
and of candidature for places and honours. k And this not 
only to particular persons ; but they conferred it upon entire 
families, cities, and sometimes whole nations at once. Add 
to this their custom of settling colonies, whereby Horn an 
roots were transplanted in foreign soil. And to consider 
these two practices together, it might be said, that the 
Romans did not spread themselves over the globe, but that 
the globe spread itself over the Romans : which is the 
securest method of extending an empire. I have often 
wondered how the Spanish government could with so few 
natives inclose and curb so many kingdoms and provinces. 
But Spain may be esteemed a sufficiently large trunk, as it 
contains a much greater tract of country than either Rome 
or Sparta did at first. And although the Spaniards are very 
sparing of naturalization, yet they do what comes next to it : 
promiscuously receive the subjects of all nations into their 
army ; and even their highest military office is often con- 
ferred upon foreign leaders. Xay, it appears that Spain at 
length begins to feel their want of natives, and are now 
endeavouring to supply it. 

It is certain, that the sedentary mechanic arts, practised 
within doors, and the more curious manufactures, which 
require the finger rather than the arm, are in their own 
nature opposite to a military spirit. Men of the sword 
universally delight in exemption from work, and dread dan- 
gers less than labour. And in this temper they must be 
somewhat indulged, if we desire to keep their minds in 
vigour. It was, therefore, a great advantage to Sparta, 
Athens, Rome, and other ancient republics, that they had the 
use, not of freemen, but generally of slaves for this kind of 
domestic arts. But after the Christian religion gained ground, 
the use of slaves was in great measure abolished. What 
comes nearest this custom is to leave such arts chiefly to 
strangers, who for that purpose should be invited to come in, 
or at least be easily admitted. The native vulgar should 
consist of three kinds; viz., husbandmen, free servants, and 

k Cic. pro L. 0. Bal. 



344 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VIII.- 

handicraftsmen, used to tlie strong masculine arts; such as 
smithery, masonry, carpentry, &c, without including the 
soldiery. 

But above all, it is most conducive to the greatness of 
empire, for a nation to profess the skill of arms as its prin- 
cipal glory and most honourable employ; for the things 
hitherto spoken of are but preparatory to the use of arms ; 
and to what end this preparation, if the thing itself be not 
reduced to action ? Romulus, as the story goes, left it in 
charge to his people at his death, that of all things they 
should cultivate the art of war, as that which would make 
their city the head of the world. 1 The whole frame and 
structure of the Spartan government tended, with more dili- 
gence, indeed, than prudence, only to make its inhabitants 
warriors. Such was also the practice of the Persians and 
Macedonians, though not so constant and lasting. The Bri- 
tons, Gauls, Germans, Goths, Saxons, and Normans, for some 
time also principally cultivated military arts. The Turks 
did the same, being not a little excited thereto by their law, 
and still continue the discipline, notwithstanding their sol- 
diery be now on its decline. Of all Christian Europe, the 
only nation that still retains and professes this discipline is 
the Spanish. But it is so plain, that every one advances 
farthest in what he studies most, as to require no enforcing. 
It is sufficient to intimate, that unless a nation professedly 
studies and practises arms and military discipline, so as to 
make them a principal business, it must not expect that any 
remarkable greatness of empire will come of its own accord. 
On the contrary, it is the most certain oracle of time, that 
those nations which have longest continued in the study and 
profession of arms, as the Romans and the Turks have prin- 
cipally done, make the most surprising progress in enlarging 
the bounds ot empire. And again, those nations which have 
flourished, though but for a single age, in military glory, yet 
during that time have obtained such a greatness of empire 
as has remained with them long after, when their martial 
discipline was slackened. 

It bears some relation to the foregoing precept, that " a 
state should have such laws and customs as may readily 
administer just causes, or at least pretexts, ol taking arms." 

1 Livy, v. 37. 



CHAP. III.] A READINESS FOR WAR NECESSARY. 345 

For there is such a natural notion of justice imprinted in 
men s minds, that they will not make war, which is attended 
with so many calamities, unless for some weighty or at least 
some specious reason. The Turks are never unprovided of a 
cause of war, viz., the propagation of their law and religion. 
The Romans, though it was a high degree ot honour for their 
emperors to extend the borders of their empire, yet never 
undertook a war for that sole end. Let it, therefore, be a 
rule to all nations that aim at empire, to have a quick and 
lively sensibility of any injury done to their frontier subjects, 
merchants, or public ministers. And let them not sit too 
long quiet after the first provocation. Let them also be 
ready and cheerful in sending auxiliaries to their friends and 
allies, which the Romans constantly observed, insomuch that 
if an invasion were made upon any of their allies, who also 
had a defensive league with others, and the former begged 
assistance severally, the Romans would ever be the first to 
give it, and not suffer the honour of the benefit to be 
snatched from them by others. As for the wars anciently 
waged from a certain conformity or tacit correspondence of 
states, I cannot see on what law they stood. Such were the 
wars undertaken by the Romans for restoring liberty to 
Greece; such were those of the Lacedaemonians and Athe- 
nians, for establishing or overturning democracies or oligar- 
chies; and such sometimes are those entered into by repub- 
lics or kingdoms, under pretext of protecting the subjects of 
other nations, or delivering them from tyranny. It may 
suffice for the present purpose, that no state expect any 
greatness of empire, unless it be immediately ready to seize 
any just occasion of a war. 

No one body, whether natural or political, can preserve its 
health without exercise; and honourable war is the whole- 
some exercise of a kingdom or commonwealth. Civil wars, 
indeed, are like the heat of a fever, but a war abroad is like 
the heat of motion — wholesome ; for mens minds are ener- 
vated and their manners corrupted by sluggish and inactive 
peace. And, however it may be as to the happiness of a 
state, it is doubtless best for its greatness to be as it were 
always in arms. A veteran army, indeed, kept constantly 
ready for marching, is expensive, yet it gives a state the dis- 
posal of things among its neighbours, or at least procures it 



346 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VIII. 

a great reputation in other respects, as may be clearly seen 
in the Spaniard, who has now, for a long succession of years, 
kept a standing army, though not always in the same part 
of the country. 

The dominion of the sea is an epitome of monarchy. Ci- 
cero, in a letter to Atticus, writing ot Pompey 's preparation 
against Caesar, says, the designs of Pompey are like those of 
Themistocles ; for he thinks they who command the sea 
command the empire.™ And doubtless Pompey would have 
wearied Caesar out, and brought him under, had he not, 
through a vain confidence, abandoned his design. It is plain, 
from many examples, of how great consequence sea-fights 
are. The fight at Actium decided the empire of the world ; 
the fight of Lepanto struck a hook in the nose of the Turk ; 
and it has frequently happened that victories or defeats at 
sea have put a final end to the war, that is, when the whole 
fortune of it has been committed to them. Doubtless the being 
master of the sea leaves a nation at great liberty to act, and 
to take as much or as little of the war as it pleases, whilst 
those who are superior in land forces have yet numerous 
difficulties to struggle with. And at present, amongst the 
European nations, a naval strength, which is the portion of 
Great Britain, is more than ever of the greatest importance 
to sovereignty, as well because most of the kingdoms of 
Europe are not continents, but in good measure surrounded 
by the sea, as because the treasures of both Indies seem but 
an accessory to the dominion of the seas. 

The wars of later times seem to have been waged in the 
dark, compared with the variety of glory and honour usually 
reflected upon the military men of former ages. It is true, 
we have at this day certain military honours designed per- 
haps as incentives to courage, though common to men of the 
gown as well as the sword ; we have also some coats of arms 
and public hospitals, for soldiers worn out and disabled in 
the service; but among the ancients, when a victory was 
obtained, there were trophies, funeral orations, and magni- 
ficent monuments for such as died in the wars. Civic crowns 
and military garlands were bestowed upon all the soldiers. 
The very name of emperor was afterwards borrowed by the 
greatest kings from leaders in the wars; they had solemn 

ni B. 10, ep. 8. 



CHAP. III.] PRINCIPLES OF EQUITY. 347 

triumphs for their successful generals; they had donatives 
and great largesses for the soldiers, when the army was dis- 
banded ; these are such great and dazzling things in the eyes 
of mortals, as to be capable of firing the most frozen spirits 
and inflaming them for war. In particular, the manner of 
triumph among the Romans was not a thing of pageantry or 
empty show, but deserving to be reckoned among the wisest 
and most noble of their customs, as being attended with 
these three particulars ; viz., 1, The glory and honour of 
their leaders ; 2. The enriching of the treasury with the 
spoils; and, 3. Donatives to the army. But their triumphal 
honours were, perhaps, unfit for monarchies, unless in the 
person of the king or his son, which also obtained at Kome 
in the times of its emperors, who reserved the honour of the 
triumph as peculiar to themselves and their sons upon re- 
turning from the wars whereat they were present, and had 
brought to a conclusion, only conferring their vestments and 
triumphal ensigns upon the other leaders. 

But to conclude, though no man, as the Scripture testifies, 
can by taking care add one cubit to his stature, 11 that is, in 
the little model of the human body; yet in the vast fabric 
of kingdoms and commonwealths, it is in the power of kings 
and rulers to extend and enlarge the bounds of empire; for by 
prudently introducing such laws, orders, and customs as those 
above mentioned, and the like, they might sow the seeds of 
greatness for posterity and future ages. But these counsels 
seldom reach the ears of princes, who generally commit the 
whole to the direction and disposal of fortune. 

The other desideratum we note in the art of government, 
is the doctrine of universal justice, or the fountains of law. 
They who have hitherto written upon laws were either as 
philosophers or lawyers : the philosophers advance many 
things that appear beautiful in discourse, but lie out of the 
road of use; whilst the lawyers, being bound and subject to 
the decrees of the laws prevailing in their several countries, 
whether Roman or pontifical, have not their judgment free, 
but write as in fetters. This doctrine, doubtless, properly 
belongs to statesmen, who best understand civil society, the 
good of the people, natural equity, the customs of nations, 
and the different forms of states ; whence they are able to 
n Matt. vi. 27, and Luke xii. 25. 



348 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VIII. 

judge of laws by the principles and precepts, as well of na-, 
tural justice as of politics. The present view, therefore, is 
to discover the fountains of justice and public good, and in 
all the parts of equity to give a certain character and idea 
of what is just, according whereto those who desire it may 
examine the laws of particular kingdoms and states, and 
thence endeavour to amend them. And of this doctrine we 
shall, in our usual way, give an example, aphoristically, in a 
single title. 

A SPECIMEN OF THE METHOD OP TEEATINO UNIVERSAL JUSTICE ; OK, 
THE FOUNTAINS OF EQUITY. 
Introduction. 
Aphorism I. Either law or force prevails in civil society. 
But there is some force that resembles law, and some law 
that resembles force more than justice; whence there are 
three fountains of injustice; viz., 1. Mere force; 2. Mali- 
cious ensnaring under colour of law; and, 3. The severity of 
the law itself. 

II. The ground of private right is this : He who does an 
injury receives profit or pleasure in the action, and incurs 
danger by the example ; whilst others partake not with him 
in that profit or pleasure, but think the example concerns 
them; whence they easily agree to defend themselves by laws, 
lest each particular should be injured in his turn. But it it 
should happen, from the nature of the times, and a commu- 
nion of guilt, that the greater or more powerful part should 
be subject to danger, rather than defended from it by law, 
faction here disannuls the law; and this case frequently 
happens. 

III. But private right lies under the protection of public 
laws; for law guards the people, and magistrates guard the 
laws. But the authority of the magistrate is derived from 
the majesty of the government, the form of the constitution, 
and its fundamental laws; whence, if the political constitu- 
tion be just and right, the laws will be of excellent use; but 
if otherwise, of little security. 

Compare Morhof s "Polyhistor," torn. iii. lib. vi. De Jurisprudentise 
universalis Scriptoribus ; " Struvii Bibliothec. Pliilosoph." cap. 6, 7, 
De Scriptoribus Politicis ; and u Stollii Introduct. in Hist. Liter." 
p. 753, &c, De Jure Natural!. Ed. 



CHAP. III.] CERTAINTY ESSENTIAL TO LAW. 349 

IV. Public law is not only the preserver of private right, 
so as to keep it unviolated and prevent injuries, but extends 
also to religion, arms, discipline, ornaments, wealth, and all 
things that regard the good of a state. 

V. For the end and scope of laws, whereto all their de- 
crees and sanctions ought to tend, is the happiness of the 
people; which is procurable, — 1. by rightly instructing them 
in piety, religion, and the duties of morality; 2. securing 
them by arms against foreign enemies; 3. guarding them 
by laws against faction and private injuries; 4. rendering 
them obedient to the government and magistracy; and, 
5. thus causing them to flourish in strength and plenty. 
But laws are the instruments and sinews for procuring all 
this. 

VI. The best laws, indeed, secure this good end, but many 
other laws fail of it ; for laws differ surprisingly from one 
another, insomuch that some are, — 1. excellent; others, 
2. of a middle nature; and, 3. others again absolutely cor- 
rupt. We shall, therefore, here offer, according to the best 
of onr judgment, certain laws, as it were, of laws;P from 
whence an information may be derived as to what is well or 
what is ill laid clown, or established by particular laws. 

VII. But before we proceed to the body of particular 
laws, we will briefly touch upon the excellencies and dig- 
nities of laws in general. Now, that may be esteemed a 
good law which is, — 1. clear and certain in its sense; 2. just 
in its command; 3. commodious in the execution; 4. agree- 
able to the form of government ; and, 5. productive of virtue 
in the subject. 1 

TITLE I. 

Of that primary dignity of the law, certainty. 

VIII. Certainty is so essential to a law, that a law without 
it cannot be just ; for if the trumpet gives an uncertain 

p As laying down the just foundations and rules of the law ; for the 
law itself is governed by reason, justice, and good sense. But perhaps 
these aphorisms of the author follow the particular law of England too 
close to be allowed by other nations for the foundations of universal 
justice, which is a very extensive subject. See " Struvii Bibliothec. 
Philosoph." cap. 8, De Scriptoribus Juris Naturae et Gentium. Ed. 

<i These are so many several titles, or general heads, laid down by the 
author, as if he intended a full treatise upon the subject ; but he here 
only considers the first of them. Shaw. 



350 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VIII. 

sound, who shall prepare himself to the battle? 1 So if 
the law has an uncertain sense, who shall obey it ? A law, 
therefore, ought to give warning before it strikes : and it is 
a true maxim, that the best law leaves least to the breast of 
the judge ; which is effected by certainty. 

IX. Laws have two uncertainties — the one where no law 
is prescribed, the other when a law is ambiguous and obscure ; 
wherefore we must first speak of cases omitted by the law, 
that in these also may be found some rules of certainty. 

Cases omitted in law. 

X. The narrowness of human prudence cannot foresee all 
the cases that time may produce. Whence new cases, and 
cases omitted, frequently turn up. And for these there are 
three remedies or supplies ; viz., 1. by proceeding upon ana- 
logy ; 2. by the use of precedents, though not jet brought 
into a law ; and 3. by juries, which decree according to con- 
science and discretion, whether in the courts of equity or of 
common law. 

Application and extension of laws. 

XI. 1. In cases omitted, the rule of law is to be deduced 
from similar cases, but with caution and judgment. And 
here the following rules are to be observed : Let reason be 
esteemed a fruitful, and custom a barren thing, so as to breed 
no cases. And therefore what is received against the reason 
of a law, or where its reason is obscure, should not be drawn 
into precedents. 

XII. A great public good must draw to itself all cases 
omitted; and therefore, when a law remarkably, and in an ex- 
traordinary manner, regards and procures the good of the 
public, let its interpretation be full and extensive. 

XIII. It is a cruel tiling to torture the laws, that they 
may torture men ; whence penal laws, much less capital 
laws, should not be extended to new offences. But if the 
offence be old, and known to the law, and its prosecution fall 
upon a new case not provided for by law, the law must 
rather be forsaken than offences go unpunished. 

XIY. Statutes that repeal the common law, especially in 
common and settled cases, should not be drawn by analogy 
to cases omitted ; for when the republic has long been with- 

r 1 Cor. xiv. 8. 



CHAP. III.] EXTENSION OF LAWS. 351 

out an entire law, and that in express cases, there is little 
danger if cases omitted should wait their remedy from a new 
statute. 

XV. It is enough for such statutes as were plainly tem- 
porary laws, enacted upon particular urgent occasions of state, 
to contain themselves within their proper cases after those 
occasions cease ; for it were preposterous to extend them in 
any measure to cases omitted. 

XVI. There is no precedent of a precedent ; but exten- 
sion should rest in immediate cases, otherwise it would 
gradually slide on to dissimilar cases, and so the wit of men 
prevail over the authority of laws. 

XVII. In such laws and statutes as are concise, extension 
may be more freely allowed ; but in those which express par- 
ticular cases, it should be used more cautiously. For as 
exception strengthens the force of a law in unaccepted cases, 
so enumeration weakens it in cases not enumerated. 

XVIII. An explanatory statute stops the current of a 
precedent statute ; nor does either of them admit extension 
afterwards. Neither should the judge make a super-extension 
where the law has once begun one. 

XIX. The solemnity of forms and acts admits not of ex- 
tension to similar cases : for it is losing the nature of 
solemnity to go from custom to opinion, and the intro- 
duction of new things takes from the majesty of the old. 

XX. The extension of law is easy to after-cases, which had 
no existence at the time when the law was made : for where 
a case could not be described because not then in being, a 
case omitted is deemed a case expressed, if there be the same 
reason for it. 

Precedents and the use of forms. 

XXI. 2. "We come next to precedents ; from which jus- 
tice may be derived where the law is deficient, but reserving 
custom, which is a kind of law, and the precedents which, 
through frequent use, are passed into custom, as into a tacit 
law ; we shall at present only speak of such precedents as 
happen but rarely, and have not acquired the force of a law, 
with a view to show how and with what caution a ride of 
justice may be derived from them when the law is defective. 

XXII. Precedents are to be derived from good and 
moderate times, and not from such as are tyrannical, factious, 



352 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VIII. 

or dissolute ; for this latter kind are a spurious birth of 
time, and prove more prejudicial than instructive. 

XXIII. Modern examples are to be held the safest. For 
why may not what was lately done, without any incon- 
venience be safely done again 1 Yet recent examples have 
the less authority ; and, where things require a restoration, 
participate more of their own times than of right reason. 

XXI Y. Ancient precedents are to be received with cau- 
tion and choice ; for the course of time alters many things; 
so that what seems ancient, in time may, for disturbance and 
unsuitableness, be new at the present ; and therefore the 
precedents of intermediate times are the best, or those of 
such times as have most agreement with the present, which 
ancient times may happen to have more than later. 

XXY Let the limits of a precedent be observed, and 
rather kept within than exceeded ; for where there is no 
rule of law, everything should be sus23ected : and therefore, 
as this is a dark road, we should not be hasty to follow. 

XXYI. Beware of fragments and epitomes of examples, 
and rather consider the whole of the precedent with all its 
process ; for if it be absurd to judge upon part of a law 
without understanding the whole, this should be much rather 
observed of precedents, the use whereof is precarious, with- 
out an evident correspondence. 

XXYII. It is of great consequence through what hands 
the precedents pass, and by whom they have been allowed. 
For if they have obtained only among clerks and secretaries, 
by the course of the court, without any manifest knowledge 
of their superiors ; or have prevailed among that source of 
errors, the populace, they are to be rejected or lighly esteemed. 
Eut if they come before senators, judges, or principal courts, 
so that of necessity they must have been strengthened, at 
least by the tacit approval of proper persons, their dignity is 
the greater. 

XXYIII. More authority is to be allowed to those 
examples which, though less used, have been published and 
thoroughly canvassed ; but less to those that have lain buried 
and forgotten in the closet or archives : for examples, like 
waters, are wholesomest in the running stream. 

XXIX. Precedents in law should not be derived from 
history, but from public acts and accurate traditions ; for it 



CHAP. III.] COURTS OF CENSURE. 353 

is a certain infelicity, even among the best historians, that 
they dwell not sufficiently upon laws and judicial proceed- 
ings ; or if they happen to have some regard thereto, yet 
their accounts are far from being authentic. 

XXX. An example rejected in the same, or next succeed- 
ing age, should not easily be received again when the same 
case recurs; for it makes not so much in its favour that men 
sometimes used it, as in its disfavour that they dropped it 
upon experience. 

XXXI. Examples are things of direction and advice, not 
rules or orders, and therefore should be so managed as to 
bend the authority of former times to the service of the 
present. 

Praetorian and censorian courts. 

XXXII. 3. There should be both courts and juries, to 
judge according to conscience and discretion, where the rule 
of the law is defective ; for laws, as we before observed, can- 
not provide against all cases, but are suited only to such as 
frequently happen : time, the wisest of all things, daily in- 
troducing new cases. 

XXXIII. But new cases happen both in criminal matters, 
which require punishment ; and in civil causes, which require 
relief. The courts that regard the former, we call censorial, 
or courts of justice ; and those that regard the latter, prse- 
torial, or courts of equity. 

XXXI V. The courts of justice should have jurisdiction 
and power, not only to punish new offences, but also to in- 
crease the penalties appointed by the laws for old ones, 
where the cases are flagrant and notorious, yet not capital ; 
for every enormous crime may be esteemed a new one. 

XXXV. In like manner, the courts of equity should have 
power as well to abate the rigour of the law as to supply its 
defects ; for if a remedy be afforded to a person neglected by 
the law, much more to him who is hurt by the law. 

XXXYI. Both the censorial and prsetorial courts should 
absolutely confine themselves to enormous and extraordinary 
cases, without invading the ordinary jurisdictions ; lest 
otherwise the law should rather be supplanted than sup- 
plied. 

XXXVII. These jurisdictions should reside only in 
supreme courts, and not be communicated to the low^v; 
2 2 a 



354 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK Vill. 

for the power of supplying, extending, or moderating the 
laws, differs but little from a power of making them. 

XXXVIIX. These courts of jurisdiction should not be 
committed to a single person, but consist of several ; and 
let not their verdict be given in silence, but let the judges 
produce the reasons of their sentence openly and in full 
audience of the court ; so that what is free in power may yet 
be limited by regard to fame and reputation. 

XXXIX. Let there be no records of blood, nor sentence 
of capital crimes, passed in any court, but upon known and 
certain laws : God himself first pronounced, and afterwards 
inflicted death. Nor should a man lose his life without first 
knowing that he had forfeited it. 

XL. In the courts of justice, let there be three returns of 
the jury, that the judges may not only lie under no necessity 
of absolving or condemning, but also have a liberty of pro- 
nouncing the case not clear. And let there be, besides 
penalty, a note of infamy or punishment by way of admonish- 
ing others, and chastising delinquents, as it were, by putting 
them to the blush with shame and scandal. 

XLI. In courts of justice, let the first overtures and in- 
termediate parts of all great offences be punished, though the 
end were not accomplished. And this should be the principal 
use of such courts ; for it is the part of discipline to punish 
the first buddings of offences ; and the part of clemency, to 
punish the intermediate actions, and prevent their taking 
effect. 

XLII. Great regard must be had in courts of equity, not 
to afford relief in those cases which the law has not so much 
omitted as despised for their levity, or, for their odiousness, 
judged unworthy of a remedy. 

XLIII. But above all, it is of the greatest moment to the 
certainty of the laws we now speak of, that courts of equity 
keep from swelling and overflowing, lest, under pretence of 
mitigating the rigour of the law, they should cut its sinews 
and weaken its strength by wresting all things to their own 
disposal. 

XLIY. No court of equity should have a right of decree- 
ing against a statute, under any pretext of equity whatever ; 
otherwise the judge would become the legislator, and have 
all things dependent upon his will 



CHAP. III.] KELATION OF LAWS. 355 

XLV. Some conceive the -jurisdiction which decrees accord- 
ing to equity and conscience, and that which proceeds accord- 
ing to strict justice, should be deputed to the same courts, 
whilst others would have them kept distinct ; which seems 
much the better way. There will be no distinction of cases 
where there is a mixture of jurisdictions ; but arbitration 
will at length supersede the law. 

XLVI. The use of the praetor's table stood upon a good 
foundation among the Romans, as that wherein he set down 
and published in what manner he would administer justice. 
According to which example, the judges in courts of equity 
should propose to themselves some certain rules to go by, 
and fix them up to public view : for as that law is ever the 
best, which leaves least to the breast of the judge ; so is that 
judge the best, who leaves least to himself. s 
Retrospect arid relation of laws. 

XL VII. There is also another way of supplying cases 
omitted ; viz., when one law is made upon another, and 
brings the cases omitted along with it. This happens in 
those laws or statutes, which, according to the common 
phrase, look backwards. But laws of this kind are to be 
seldom used, and with great caution ; for a Janus-face is not 
to be admired in the law. 

XLY III. He who captiously and fraudulently eludes and 
circumscribes the words or intention of a law, deserves to be 
hampered by a subsequent law. Whence, in iraudulent and 
evasive cases, it is just for laws to carry a retrospection, and 
prove of mutual assistance to each other ; so that he who 
invents loopholes and plots the subversion of present laws, 
may at least be awed by future. 

XLIX. Such laws as strengthen and confirm the true in- 
tentions of acts and instruments against the defects of 
forms and solemnities, very justly include past actions ; for 
the principal fault of a retrospective law is, its causing dis- 
turbance; but these confirming laws regard the peace and 
settlement of transactions. Care, however, must be had not 
to disturb things once adjudged. 

L. It should be carefully observed, that not only such 
laws as look back to what is past invalidate former transac- 

8 The author made a speech to this effect, upon receiving- the seal ( 
and taking his place in Chancery. 

2 a2 



356 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VIII. 

tions, but such also as prohibit and restrain things future, 
which are necessarily connected with things past : so, if any 
law should prohibit certain artificers the sale of their wares 
in future, this law, though it speaks for hereafter, yet 
operates upon times past, though such artificers had then no 
other lawful means of subsisting. 

LI. All declaratory laws, though they make no mention of 
time past, yet are, by the very declaration itself, entirely to 
regard past matters ; for the interpretation does not begin 
with the declaration, but, as it were, is made contemporary 
with the law itself. And therefore declaratory laws should 
not be enacted, except in cases where the law may be retro- 
spected with justice, And so much for the uncertainty of 
laws, where the law is extant. We proceed to the other 
part, where the laws, though extant, are perplexed and 
obscure. 

Obscurity of laws. 

LII. The obscurity of laws has four sources ; viz., 1. An 
accumulation of laws, especially if mixed with such as are 
obsolete. 2, An ambiguous description, or want of clear and 
distinct delivery. 3. A neglect or failure in instituting the 
method of interpreting justice. 4. And lastly, a clashing and 
uncertainty of judgments. 

Excessive accumulation of laws. 

LIII. The prophet says, "It shall rain snares upon them :"* 
but there are no worse snares than the snares of laws, espe- 
cially the penal, which, growing excessive in number, and 
useless through time, prove not a lantern, but nets to the feet. 

LI Y. There are two ways in use of making new statutes ; 
the one confirms and strengthens the former statutes in the 
like cases, at the same time adding or altering some parti- 
culars ; the other abrogates and cancels all that was enacted 
before, and instead thereof, substitutes a new uniform law. 
And the latter method is the best : for in the former the 
decrees become complicate and perplexed, and though the 
business be performed, yet the body of laws in the mean 
time becomes corrupt ; but in the latter, greater diligence 
must be used when the law itself comes to be weighed anew, 
and what was before enacted to be reconsidered antecedent 

« Psal. x. 7. 



CHAP. III.] OBSOLETE LAWS TO BE ANNULLED. 357 

to its passing ; by which means the future agreement and 
harmony of the laws is well consulted. 

LY. It was in use among the Athenians for six persons 
annually to examine the contradictory titles of their laws, 
and propose to the people such of them as could not be 
reconciled, that some certain resolution might be taken about 
them. According to which example, the legislators of every 
state should once in three or five years, as it shall seem 
proper, take a review of these contrarieties in law; but let 
them first be inspected and prepared by committees ap- 
pointed for the purpose, and then brought in for the general 
assembly to fix and establish what shall be approved by 
vote. 

LYI. But let not an over-diligent and scrupulous care be 
used in reconciling the contradictory titles of laws, by subtile 
and far-fetched distinctions ; for this is the weaving of the 
wit ; and whatever appearance it may have of modesty and 
reverence, it is to be deemed prejudicial, as rendering the 
whole body of the laws dissimilar and incoherent. It were, 
therefore, much better to suppress the worst, and suffer the 
best to stand alone. 

LYII. Obsolete laws, that are grown into disuse, should 
in the same manner be cancelled. For as an express statute 
is not regularly abrogated by disuse, it happens that, from a 
contempt of such as are obsolete, the others also lose part of 
their authority; whence follows that torture of Mezentius, 
whereby the living laws are killed in the embraces of the 
dead ones. But above all things a gangrene in the laws is 
to be prevented. 

LYIII. And let courts of equity have a right of decreeing 
contrary to obsolete laws and statutes not newly enacted ; 
for although, as is well observed, nobody should be wisei 
than the laws, yet this should be understood of the laws 
when they are awake, and not when they sleep. But let it 
be the privilege, not of judges in the courts of equity, but of 
kings, solemn councils, and the higher powers, to overrule 
later statutes found prejudicial to public justice, and to sus- 
pend the execution thereof by edicts or public acts, till those 
meetings are held which have the true power of repealing 
them, lest otherwise the safety of the people should be en- 
dangered. 



358 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. [BOOK VIII. 

New digests of laws. 

LIX. But if laws heaped upon laws shall swell to such 
a vast bulk, and labour under such confusion as renders it 
expedient to treat them anew, and reduce them into one 
sound and serviceable corps, it becomes a work of the utmost 
importance, deserving to be deemed heroical, and let the 
authors of it be ranked among legislators, and the restorers 
of states and empires. 

LX. Such an expurgation and new digest of laws is to 
be effected by five particulars; viz., 1. By omitting all the 
obsolete laws, which Justinian calls ancient fables; 2. By 
receiving the most approved contradictories, and abolishing 
the rest; 3. By expunging laws of the same purport, and 
retaining only one, or the most perfect; 4. By throwing out 
such laws as determine nothing — only propose questions, and 
leave them undecided; 5. And lastly, by contracting and 
abridging those that are too verbose and prolix. 

LXI. And it would be very useful in such a new digest, 
separately to range and bring together all those laws received 
for common law which have a kind of immemorial origin, 
and on the other side the statutes superadded from time to 
time ; because in numerous particulars in the practice of the 
law, the interpretation and administration of the common 
law differs from the statute law. And this method was ob- 
served by Trebonianus in his digest and code, 

LXII. But in such a second birth of the law, and such a 
recompilement of the ancient books and laws, the very words 
and text of the law itself should be retained ; and though it 
were necessary to collect them by fragments and small por- 
tions, they may afterwards be regularly wove together. For 
allowing it might perhaps be more commodious, and with 
regard to the true reason of the thing, better, to do it by a 
new text than by such kind of patchwork, yet in the law, 
style and description are not so much to be regarded as 
authority, and its patron antiquity; otherwise this might 
rather seem a work of mere scholarship and method than a 
corps of majestic laws. 

LXIII. 'Twere advisable, in making this new digest, not 
utterly to abolish the ancient volumes, and give them up to 
oblivion, but suffer them at least to remain in some library, 
though with a prohibition of their common use ; because in 



CHAP. III.] CAUSES OF OBSCURITY IN LAWS. 359 

weighty cases it might be proper to consult and inspect the 
revolutions and series of ancient laws. 'Tis also a solemn 
thing to intermix antiquity with things present. And such 
a new body of laws ought to receive the sanction of all those 
who have any legislative power in the state, lest under a pre- 
tence of digesting the old laws new ones should be secretly 
obtruded. 

LXIY. 'Twere to be wished that such a recompilement 
of the laws might be undertaken in such times as excel the 
ancient (whose acts and works they model anew) in point of 
learning and universal knowledge ; the contrary whereof 
happened in the work of Justinian. For 'tis an uniortunate 
thing to have the works of the ancients mangled, and set 
together again at the discretion and choice oi a less prudent 
and less learned age. But it often happens that what is 
necessary is not best. 

Obscure and involved exposition of laws. 

LXV. Laws are obscurely described either, — 1. through 
their loquacity and superfluity of words; 2. through over- 
conciseness ; or, 3. through their preambles contradicting 
the body of the law. 

LXYI. We at present treat of the obscurity which arises 
from their ill description, and approve not the loquacity and 
prolixity now used in drawing up the laws, which in no 
degree obtains what is intended by it, but rather the con- 
trary; for whilst it endeavours to comprehend and express 
all particular cases in apposite and proper diction (as expect- 
ing greater certainty from thence), it raises numerous ques- 
tions about terms, which renders the true and real design 
of the law more difficult to come at through a huddle of 
words. 

LXVII. Nor yet can we approve of a too concise and 
affected brevity, used for the sake of majesty and authority, 
especially in this age ; lest the laws should become like the 
Lesbian rule. u A mediocrity, therefore, is to be observed, 

n The Lesbians are said to have made their rules from their buildings ; 
so that it the buildings were erroneous, the rules they worked by became 
so too, and thus propagated the error : so if the laws were written con- 
cise, as if drawn up in perfect times, or with an affectation of a sen- 
tentious or majestic brevity, they might propagate errors, instead of 
correcting them. 



360 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VIII. 

and a well-defined generality of words to be found, which 
though it does not accurately explain the cases it compre- 
hends, yet clearly excludes those it does not comprehend. 

LXVIII. Yet in the ordinary politic laws and edicts, 
where lawyers are seldom consulted, but the politicians trust 
to their own judgment, things ought to be largely ex- 
plained and pointed out to the capacity of the vulgar. 

LXIX. Nor do we approve of tedious preambles at the 
h ead of laws : they were anciently held impertinent, as in- 
troducing laws in the way of dispute, not in the way of 
command. But as we do not suit ourselves to the manners 
of the ancients, these prefaces are now generally used of 
necessity, not only as explanations, but as persuasives to the 
passing of the law in the assemblies of states, and likewise 
to satisfy the people ; yet as much as possible let preambles 
be avoided, and the law begin with commanding. 

LXX. Though the intent and mind of the law may be 
sometimes drawn from these preambles, yet its latitude and 
extent should by no means be derived from them ; for the 
preamble frequently fixes upon a few of the more plausible 
and specious particulars, by way of example, whilst the law 
itself contains many more; or on the contrary, the law re- 
strains and limits many things, the reason whereof it were 
not necessary to insert in the preamble ; wherefore the 
extent of the law is to be derived from the body of the law, 
the preamble often exceeding or falling short of this extent. 

LXXI. There is one very faulty method of drawing up 
the laws, viz., when the case is largely set forth in the pre- 
amble, and then by the force of the word which, or some 
such relative, the body of the law is reflected back upon the 
preamble, and the preamble inserted and incorporated in the 
body of the law ; whence proceed both obscurity and danger, 
because the same care is not usually employed in weighing 
and examining the words of the preamble, as the words of 
the law itself. 

Different methods of expounding laws and solving doubts. 

LXXII. There are five ways of interpreting the law, and 

making it clear; viz., 1. by recording of judgments; 2. by 

instituting authentic writers ; 3. by auxiliary books; 4. by 

readings; and, 5. by the answers or counsel of qualified 



CHAP. III.] DIRECTIONS FOR REPORTING JUDGMENTS. 361 

persons. A due use of all these affords a great and ready 
assistance in clearing the laws oi their obscurity. 

Reports of judgments. 

LXXIII. And above all, let the judgments of the supreme 
and principal courts be diligently and faithfully recorded, 
especially in weighty causes, and particularly such as are 
doubtful, or attended with difficulty or novelty. For judg- 
ments are the anchors of the laws, as laws are the anchors 
of states. 

LXXIY. And let this be the method of taking them 
down: — 1. Write the case precisely, and the judgments ex- 
actly, at length; 2. Acid the reasons alleged by the judges 
for their judgment ; 3. Mix not the authority of cases, 
brought by way of example, with the principal case; 4. And 
for the pleadings, unless they contain anything very extraor- 
dinary, omit them. 

LXXY. Let those who take down these judgments be 
of the most learned counsel in the law, and have a liberal 
stipend allowed them by the public. But let not the judges 
meddle in these reports, lest, favouring their own opinions 
too much, or relying upon their own authority, they exceed 
the bounds of a recorder. 

LXXYI. Let these judgments be digested in the order of 
time, and not in method and titles ; for such writings are a 
kind of histories or narratives of the laws ; and not only the 
acts themselves, but also their times, afford light to a prudent 
judge. 

Authentic writers. 

LXXVII. Let a body of law be wholly compiled, 1. of 
the laws that constitute the common law; 2. of the statutes; 
and, 3. of the judgments on record : and besides these, let 
nothing be deemed authentic, or else be sparingly received. 

LXXYIII. Nothing conduces more to the certainty of 
laws, whereof we now speak, than that the authentic writings 
should be kept within moderate bounds ; and that vast mul- 
titude of authors and learned men in the law excluded, 
which otherwise rend the mind of the laws, distract the 
judge, make lawsuits endless : and the lawyer himself, find- 
ing it impossible to peruse and digest so many books, hence 
takes up with compendiums. Perhaps some good glossary, a 



362 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VIII. 

few of tlie exact est wnters, or rather a very few portions of 
a few authors, might be useially received for authentic. But 
let the books be still reserved in libraries, for the judges and 
counsel to inspect occasionally, without permitting them to 
be cited in pleading at the bar, or suffering them to pass into 
authority. 

Auxiliary writings. 

LXXIX. But let not the knowledge and practice of the 
law want its auxiliary books, which are of six kinds ; viz., 1. In- 
stitutes; 2. Explanations of words ; 3. The rules ot law; 4. The 
antiquities of law ; 5. Summaries or abridgments ; and 
6. Forms of pleading. 

LXXX. Students are to be trained up to the knowledge 
and higher parts of the law by institutes, which should be 
written in a clear method. Let the whole of private right, of 
the laws of Meum and Tuum, be gone over in these elements, 
not omitting some things and dwelling too much upon others, 
but giving a little taste of all, that when the student comes 
to peruse the corps of law, he may meet with nothing 
entirely new, or without having received some previous 
notion thereof. But the public law is not to be touched in 
these institutes, this being to be drawn from the fountains 
themselves. 

LXXXI. Let a commentary be made of the terms of the 
law, without endeavouring too curiously and laboriously to 
give their full sense and explanation ; the purport hereof 
being not to search the exact definitions of terms, but to 
afford such explanations only as may open an easy way to 
reading the books of the law. And let not this treatise be 
digested alphabetically, — rather leave that to the index ; but 
place all those words together which relate to the same 
thing, so that one may help to the understanding of another. 

LXXXII. It principally conduces to the certainty of 
laws, to have a just and exact treatise of the different rules 
of law ; a work deserving the diligence of the most ingenious 
and prudent lawyers ; for we are not satisfied with what is 
already extant of this kind. Not only the known and com- 
mon rules are to be here collected, but others also, more 
subtile and latent, which may be drawn from the harmony 
of laws and adjudged cases; such as are sometimes found in 
the best records. And these rules or maxims are general 



CHAP. III.] ORDERLY DIGESTS RECOMMENDED. 3 63 

dictates of reason running through the different matters of 
law, and make, as it were, its ballast. 

LXXXIII. But let not the positions or placets of law be 
taken for rules, as they usually are, very injudiciously : ior if 
tins were received, there would be as many rules as there are 
laws : a law being no other than a commanding rule. But 
let those be held for rules which cleave to the very iorm of 
justice ; whence in general the same rules are found through 
the civil law of different states, unless they sometimes vary 
with regard to the form of government. 

LXXXIY. After the rule is laid down in a short and 
solid expression, let examples and clear decisions of cases be 
subjoined by way of explanation ; distinctions and excep- 
tions by way of limitation ; and things of the same kind by 
way of amplification to the rule. 

LXXXV. It is justly directed not to take laws from 
rules, but to make the rules from the laws in being : neither 
must the proof be derived from the words of the rule, as if 
that were the text of the law ; for the rule, like the magnetic 
needle, does not make, but indicate the law. 

LXXXVI. Besides the body of the law, it is proper to 
take a view of the antiquities of laws, which, though they 
have lost their authority, still retain their reverence. Those 
writings upon laws and judgments, whether published or un- 
published, are to be held for antiquities of law, which pre- 
ceded the body of the laws in point of time ; for these 
antiquities should not be lost, but the most useful of them 
being collected, and such as are frivolous and impertinent 
rejected, they should be brought into one volume without 
mixing ancient fables, as Treboninaus calls them, with the 
laws themselves. 

LXXXYII. But for practice, 'tis highly proper to have 
the whole law orderly digested under heads and titles, 
whereto any one may occasionally turn on a sudden, as to a 
storehouse furnished for present use. These summaries bring 
into order what lay dispersed, and abridge what was diffusive 
and prolix in the law. But care must be had lest these 
abridgments should make men ready for practice, and in- 
dolent in the science itself ; for their office is to serve but as 
remembrancers, and not as perfect teachers of the law. And 
they are to be made with great diligence, fidelity, and judg- 



364 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VIII. 

ment, that they may fairly represent, and not steal from the 
laws. 

LXXXVIII. Let different forms of pleading be collected 
in every kind, for this tends to practice ; and doubtless they 
lay open the oracles and mysteries of the law, which conceals 
many such. And these are better and more fully displayed 
in forms of pleading than otherwise, as the hand is better 
seen when opened. 

Answers and consultations. 

LXXXIX. Some method ought to be taken for solving 
and putting an end to particular doubts which arise from 
time to time ; for it is a hard thing, if they who desire to 
keep clear of error, should find no one to set them right, but 
that their actions must be still endangered, without any 
means of knowing the law, before the case is determined. 

XC But we approve not that the answers of prudent 
men, whether counsellors or professors of law, given to such 
as ask their advice, should have so great authority, as that 
the judge might not lawfully depart from their opinion. Let 
points of law be taken from sworn judges. 

XCI. We approve not that judgments should be tried by 
feigned causes and persons, with a view to predetermine what 
will be the rule of law ; for this dishonours the majesty of 
laws, and should be judged as a prevarication. Besides, 'tis 
monstrous for judgments to copy the stage. 

XGII. Therefore let as well judgments as answers and 
advice proceed from none but the judges, the former in suits 
depending, and the latter in the way of opinion upon difficult 
points of law. But these notices, whether in private or public 
affairs, are not to be expected from the judges themselves, 
for that were to make the judge a pleader ; but from the 
prince or state : and let them recommend it to the judges, 
who, invested with such authority, are to hear the arguments 
on both sides, and the pleadings of the counsel employed 
either by those whom it concerns, or appointed by the judges 
themselves if necessary ; and after the matter is weighed, let 
the judges declare the law, and give their opinion ; and such 
kind of opinions should be recorded and published among 
judged cases, and be reckoned of equal authority with 
them. 



CHAP. ITI.l CAUSES OF UNCERTAIN JUDGMENTS. 365 

Prelections. 

XCIII. Let the readings upon the law, and the exercises 
of such as study it, be so instituted and ordered, that all 
things may tend to the resolving and putting an end, and 
not to the raising and maintaining of questions and contro- 
versies in the law. But at present a school seems everywhere 
opened for multiplying disputes, wranglings, and altercations 
about the laws, in the way of showing the wit of the dis- 
putants ; though this is also an ancient evil, for it was 
esteemed a piece of glory of old to support numerous questions 
of law, as it were by sects and fashions, rather than to end 
them. But this ought to be prevented. 

Instability of judgments. 

XCIV. Judgments prove uncertain, either 1. through an 
untimely and hasty passing of sentence ; 2. the emulation of 
courts ; 3. a wrong and unskilful recording of judgments ; 
or, 4. through a too easy and ready way opened for their 
reversion. Therefore let care be taken, 1. that judgments 
proceed upon mature deliberation ; 2. that courts preserve a 
due reverence for each other ; 3. that judgments be faithfully 
and prudently recorded ; and 4. that the way for reversing 
of judgments be made narrow, craggy, and thorny. 

XCV. If judgment be given upon a case in any principal 
court, and a like case come into another court, proceed not 
to judgment before a consultation be held in some considerable 
assembly of the judges. For if decrees are of necessity to be 
cut off, at least let them be honourably interred. 

XCYI. For courts to quarrel and contend about jurisdic- 
tion is a piece of human frailty, and the more, because of a 
childish opinion, that it is the duty of a good and able judge 
to enlarge the jurisdiction of his court ; whence this dis- 
order is increased, and the spur made use of instead of the 
bridle. But that courts, through this heat of contention 
should on all sides uncontrollably reverse each other's decrees 
which belong not to jurisdiction, is an intolerable evil, and 
by all means to be suppressed by kings, the senate, or the 
government. For it is a most pernicious example that courts, 
which make peace among the subjects, should quarrel among 
themselves. 

XOVII. Let not too easy a passage be opened for the re- 



366 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VIII. 

pealing of sentence by appeal, writ of error, rehearing, &c. 
Some are of opinion, that a cause should be removed to a 
higher court as a new cause, and the judgment given 
upon it in the lower be entirely laid aside and suspended ; 
whilst others again would have the judgment remain in its 
force, and only the execution to be stopped. "We approve 
of neither, unless the court where the sentence passed were 
of a very inferior nature ; but would rather have both the 
judgment stand and its execution proceed, provided a caveat 
be put in by the defendant for costs and damages if the sen- 
tence should be reversed. 

Let this title, of the certainty of laws, serve for a specimen 
of that digest we propose, and have in hand. x And thus we 
conclude the head of civil doctrine, and with it human philo- 
sophy ; as with human philosophy, philosophy in general. 

And now standing still to breathe, and look back upon the 
way we have passed, we seem all along to have been but 
tuning and trying the instruments of the muses, for a con- 
cert to be played upon them by other hands ; or to have 
been grating men's ears, that they may have the better music 
hereafter. And indeed, when I set before me the present 
state of the times, wherein learning makes her third visit 
to mankind ;y and carefully reflect how well she finds us pre- 
pared and furnished with all kinds of helps, the sublimity and 
penetration of many geniuses of the age, those excellent monu- 
ments of the ancient writings which shine as so many great 
lights before us ; the art of printing, which largely supplies 
men of all fortunes with books ; the open traffic of the globe, 2 
both by sea and land, whence we receive numerous experi- 
ments, unknown to former ages, and a large accession to the 
mass of natural history ; the leisure which the greatest minds 
in the kingdoms and provinces of Europe everywhere enjoy, 
as being less immersed in business than the ancient Greeks, 
by reason of their populous states ; or the Romans, through 
the extensiveness of their empire ; the peace at present 

x Though the design itself was not executed by the author, some pro- 
gress was made in the history of the nature, use, and proceedings of the 
laws ol England. Shaiv. 

y Alluding only to the two famous ones, among the Greeks and 
Bomans. 

* He might have added the discovery of a new world. Ed. 



CHAP. III.] BRIGHT PROSPECTS FOR SCIENCE. 367 

spread over Britain, Spain, Italy, France, and many other 
countries ; the exhaustion oi all that can be invented or said 
in religious controversies^ which have so long diverted many 
of the best geniuses irom the study of other arts ; the un- 
common learning of his present Britannic majesty, about 
whom, as about a phoenix, the fine geniuses flock ±rom all 
quarters ; and lastly, the inseparable property ot time, which 
is daily to disclose truth : when all these things, I say, are 
considered by us, we cannot but be raised into a persuasion 
that this third period of learning may iar exceed the two 
former of the Greeks and Romans, provided only that men 
would well and prudently understand their own powers and 
the detects thereof ; receive from each other the lamps oi in- 
vention, and not the firebrands of contradiction ; and esteem 
the search after truth as a certain noble enterprise, not a 
thing of delight or ornament, and bestow their wealth and 
magnificence upon matters of real worth and excellence, not 
upon such as are vulgar and obvious. As to my own labours, 
if any one shall please himself or others in reprehending 
them, let him do it to the full, provided he observe the 
ancient request, and weigh and consider what he says — 
" Yerbera, sed audi." b And certainly the appeal is just, 
though the thing perhaps may not require it, fr/pm men's first 
thoughts to their second, and from the present age to pos- 
terity. 

We come, lastly, to that science which the two former 
periods of time were not blessed with ; viz., sacred and in- 
spired theology : the sabbath of all our labours and peregri- 
nations. 

a This is spoken like one who was versed in ecclesiastical history, and 
polemical divinity ; for scarce any religious dispute is now raised, that 
has not been previously contested : but many have found the art, by 
heat and warmch, to revive old doctrines, opinions, and heresies, and 
pass them upon the crowd for new ; rekindling the firebrands of their 
ancestors, as if religious controversies were to be entailed upon man- 
kind, and descend nom one generation to another. Ed. 

u Themistocles to Eurybiades. Plut. Reg. et Imper. Apop 



368 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK IX. 

NINTH BOOK. 



The Compartments ol Theology omitted. Three Deficiencies pointed 
out. The Right Use of Reason in Matters of Faith. The Know- 
ledge of the Degrees of Unity in the City of God. The Emanations 
of the Holy Scriptures. 

Having now, excellent king, with our small bark of 
knowledge, sailed over, and surrounded the globe of the 
sciences, as well the old world as the new (let posterity judge 
with what success), we should pay our vows and conclude ; 
did there not still remain another part to be viewed ; viz., 
sacred or inspired theology. But if we were disposed to 
survey it, we must quit the small vessel of human i eason, and 
put ourselves on board the ship of the Church, which alone 
possesses the divine needle for justly shaping the course. 
Nor will the stars of philosophy, that have hitherto princi- 
pally lent their light, be of farther service to us ; and, therefore, 
it were not improper to be silent, also, upon this subject, as 
well as upon that of government. For which reason, we 
will omit the just distribution of it, and only contribute, 
according to our slender ability, a few particulars in the way 
of good wishes. And this we do the rather, because we find 
no tract in the whole region of divinity, that is absolutely 
deserted or uncultivated : so great has the diligence of men 
been, in sowing either wheat or tares. We shall, therefore, 
only propose three appendages of theology ; treating not 
of the matter already formed, or to be formed by divinity, 
but only of the manner of forming it. Neither will we here, 
as we have hitherto practised, give any sketches, annex any 
specimens, or lay down any precepts for these treatises ; but 
leave all this to divines. 

The prerogative of God extends over the whole man, and 
reaches both to his will and his reason ; so that man must 
absolutely renounce himself, and submit to God : and there- 
fore, as we are obliged to obey the divine law, though our 
will murmur against it, so are we obliged to believe the 
word of God, though our reason be shocked at it. For if 
we should believe only such things as are agreeable to our 
reason, we assent to the matter, and not to the author : 



BOOK IX.] FAITH ABOVE KNOWLEDGE. 369 

which is no more than we do to a suspected witness. But 
the faith imputed to Abraham for righteousness consisted in 
a particular, laughed at by Sarah, a who, in that respect, was 
an image of the natural reason. And, therefore, the more 
absurd and incredible any divine mystery is, the greater 
honour we do to God in believing it ; and so much the more 
noble the victory of faith : as sinners, the more they are 
oppressed in conscience, yet relying upon the mercy of God 
for salvation, honour him the more ; for all despair is a kind 
of reproaching the deity. And if well considered, belief is 
more worthy than knowledge ; such knowledge, I mean, as 
we have at present : for in knowledge, the human mind is 
acted upon by sense, which results from material things ; but 
in faith, the spirit is affected by spirit, which is the more 
worthy agent. It is otherwise in the state of glory : for, 
then, faith shall cease, and we shall know as we are known. b 
Let us, therefore, conclude, that sacred theology must be 
drawn from the word and oracles of God ; c not from the 
light of nature, or the dictates of reason. It is written, that 
" the heavens declare the glory of God :" but we nowhere 
find it, that the heavens declare the will of God, which is 
pronounced a law, and a testimony, that men should do 
according to it, &c. Nor does this hold only in the great 
mysteries of the Godhead, of the creation, and oi the redemp- 
tion, but belongs, also, to the true interpretation of the 
moral law. " Love your enemies, do good to them that hate 
you," <fec, " that ye may be the children of your heavenly 
father, who sends his rain upon the just and the unjust." d 
Which words are more than human, — 

" Nee vox hominein sonat." e 
and go beyond the light of nature. So the heathen poets, 
especially when they speak pathetically, frequently expostu- 
late with laws and moral doctrines, (though these are far 
more easy and indulgent than divine laws), as if they had a 
kind of malignant opposition to the freedom of nature, — 

" Et quod natura remittit 

Invida jura negant." f 

according to the expression of Dendamis, the Indian, to the 
messengers of Alexander ; viz., " That he had heard, indeed, 

a Gen. xviii. b 1 Cor. xiii. 12. c Psal. xviii. 2. 

d Matt. v. 44, 45. e ^neid, i. 332. f Ovid, Metam. x. 330. 
2 2B 



I 

370 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK IX. 

somewhat of Pythagoras, and the other wise men ol Greece, 
and believed them to have been great men ; but that they 
held a certain fantastical thing, which they called law and 
morality, in too great veneration and esteem." s We cannot 
doubt, therefore, that a large part of the moral law is too 
sublime to be attained by the light of nature : though it is 
still certain, that men, even from the light and law of nature, 
have some notions of virtue, vice, justice, wrong, good, and 
evil. 

We must observe, that the light of nature has two signi- 
fications ; 1. as it arises from sense, induction, reason, and 
argument, according to the laws of heaven and earth ; and 
2. as it shines in the human mind, by internal instinct, 
according to the law of conscience, which is a certain spark, 
and, as it were, a relique of our primitive purity. And in 
this latter sense, chiefly, the soul receives some light, for 
beholding and discerning the perfection of the moral law ; 
though this light be not perfectly clear, but of such a nature 
as rather to reprehend vice than give a full information of 
duty; whence religion, both with regard to mysteries and 
morality, depends upon divine revelation. 

Yet the use of human reason in spiritual things is various, 
and very extensive : for religion is justly called a reasonable 
service. 11 The types and ceremonies of the old law w r ere 
rational and significative, differing widely from the cere- 
monies of idolatry and magic : which are a kind of deaf and 
dumb show, and generally uninstructive even by inuendo. 
But the Christian faith, as in all things else, excels in this, 
that it preserves the golden mean in the use of reason, and 
dispute the child of reason, between the laws of the heathens 
and of Mahomet, which go into extremes : for the heathen 
religion had no constant belief or confession, and the Maho- 
metan forbids all disputes in religion :* whence one appears 
with the face of manifold error, the other as a crafty 

e Strabo, xv. h St. Paul, Rom. xii. 1. 

1 This is erroneous. The Mohammedan religion, though not divided 
into so many churches as the Christian, is, notwithstanding, disturbed by 
the cry of conflicting parties under the generic titles of Soonees and 
Sheeahs ; the former comprise the orthodox, the latter the heretics. 
It is needless to add that the hatred of the rival sects is most cordial 
and intense. Ed. 



BOOK IX.] USE OF REASON IN RELIGION. 371 

and subtile imposture ; whilst the sacred Christian faith both 
receives and rejects the use of reason and dispute under due 
limitation^ 

The use of human reason in matters of religion is of two 
kinds ; the one consisting in the explanation of mysteries, 
the other in the deductions from them. As to the expla- 
nation of mysteries, we find that God himself condescends to 
the weakness of our capacity, and opens his mysteries, so as 
they may be best understood by us ; inoculating, as it were, 
his revelations into the notions and comprehensions of our 
reason, and accommodating his inspirations to the opening 
of our understanding, as a key is fitted to open the lock. 
Though, in this respect, we should not be wanting to our- 
selves : for as God makes use of our reason in his illumi- 
nations, so ought we likewise to exercise it every way, in 
order to become more capable of receiving and imbibing 
mysteries ; provided the mind be enlarged, according to its 
capacity, to the greatness of the mysteries, and not the 
mysteries contracted to the narrowness of the mind. 

With regard to inferences, we must know that we have 
a certain secondary and respective, not a primitive and 
absolute, use of reason and arguing left us about mysteries. 
For after the articles and principles of religion are so seated, 
as to be entirely removed from the examination of reason, 
we are then permitted to draw inferences from them, agree- 
able to their analogy. But this holds not in natural things, 
where principles themselves are subject to examination by 
induction, though not by syllogism, and have, besides, no 
repugnancy to reason : so that both the first and middle 
propositions are derivable from the same fountain. It is 
otherwise in religion, where the first propositions are self- 
existent, and subsist of themselves, uncontrolled by that 
reason which deduces the subsequent propositions. Nor is 
this the case in religion alone, but likewise in other sciences, 
as well the serious as the light, where the primary propo- 
sitions are postulated : as things wherein the use of reason 
cannot be absolute. Thus in chess, or other games of the 
like nature, the first rules and laws of the play are merely 
positive postulates, which ought to be entirely received, not 

k Hooker, Eccles. Polit. 

2 b2 



372 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK IX. 

disputed : but the skilful playing of the game is a matter of 
art and reason. So, in human laws, there are numerous 
maxims, or mere placits of law received, which depend more 
upon authority than reason, and come not into dispute. But, 
then, for the inquiry, what is not absolutely, but relatively 
most just herein : viz., in conformity with those maxims ; 
this, indeed, is a point -of reason, and affords a large field for 
dispute. Such, therefore, is that secondary reason which 
has place in sacred theology, and is founded upon the good 
pleasure of God. 

And as the use of human reason, in things divine, is of 
two kinds, so it is attended with two excesses : 1. the one, 
when it too curiously inquires into the manner of a mystery ; 
2. the other, when it attributes an equal authority to the 
inference as to the principles. For he may seem a disciple 
of Mcodenms, who shall obstinately enquire, u How can a 
man be born when he is old ? " l But he can be esteemed 
no disciple of St. Paul, who does not sometimes insert in his 
doctrine, " I, not the Lord," or, according to my judgment, 111 
which is the style that generally suits with inferences. 
Whence it seems a thing of capital use and benefit, to have 
a sober and diligent treatise wrote concerning the proper 
use of human reason in divinity, by way of a divine logic. 
For this would be like an opiate in medicine ; and not only 
lay asleep those empty speculations which sometimes disturb 
the schools, but also allay that fury of controversy which 
raises such tumults in the church. This treatise, therefore, 
we place among the things that are wanted, under the name 
of the Moderator, or the true Use of human Reason in 
Theology. 

It is of the utmost importance to the peace of the church, 
to have the covenant of Christians prescribed by our Saviour 
in two particulars that seem somewhat contradictory, well 
and clearly explained; the one whereof runs thus : " He who 
is not with us is against us;" n and the other thus : " He 
who is not against us is for us ;" ° whence it plainly appears, 
that there are some points wherein he who differs is to be 
excluded the covenant ; and others again, wherein Christians 
may differ, and yet keep terms. The bonds of the Christian 

John iii. 4. m 1 Cor. vii. 12. fl Matt. xii. 30, and Luke xi. 23. 

° Luke ix. 50. 



BOOK IX.] METHOD IN INTERPRETING SCRIPTURE. 373 

communion are, one faith, one baptism, P &c, not one cere- 
mony, one opinion, <fec. Our Saviour's coat was seamless ; <* 
but the garment of the church of many colours. The chalt 
must be separated from the wheat, but the tares in the field 
are not to be hastily plucked up from the corn. Moses ; 
when he saw the Egyptian contending with the Israelite, 
did not say, " Why strive ye ? " but drew his sword, and 
killed the Egyptian ; but when he saw two Israelites fight- 
ing together, though the cause of one of them might have 
been unjust, yet he says to them, " Ye are brethren, why 
strive ye?" r All which being well considered, it seems a 
thing of great use and moment to define what, and of how 
great latitude those matters are, which totally cut off men 
from the body of the church, and exclude them the commu- 
nion of the faithful. And if any one shall imagine this done 
already, we advise him seriously to reflect, with what justice 
and moderation. But it is highly probable, that whoever 
speaks of peace will meet with that answer of Jehu to the 
messenger : " What has peace to do with Jehu I — What 
hast thou to do with peace ? — Turn, and follow me." s For the 
hearts of most men are not set upon peace, but party. And 
yet we think proper to place among the things wanting, a 
discourse upon the degrees of unity in the city of God, as a 
wholesome and useful undertaking. 

The holy Scriptures having so great a share in the consti- 
tution of theology, a principal regard must be had to their 
interpretation. We speak not of the authority of inter- 
preting, established by the consent of the church, but of the 
manner of interpreting, which is either methodical or loose. 
For the pure waters of divinity are drawn and employed, 
nearly in the same manner as the natural waters of springs ; 
viz., 1. either received in cisterns, and thence derived through 
different pipes, for the more commodious use of men ; or 
2. immediately poured into vessels for present occasions. 
The former methodical way has produced the scholastic divi- 
nity, whereby the doctrine of theology is collected into an 
art, as in a cistern ; and thence distributed around, by the 
conveyance of axioms and positions. 

But the loose way of interpreting has two excesses : the 

v St. Paul, Eph. ix. 51. * St. John xix. 23. r Exodus ii. 13. 

s 4 Kings ix. 19. 



374: ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK IX. 

one supposes such a perfection in the Scriptures, that all 
philosophy should be derived from their fountains, as if every 
other philosophy were a profane and heathenish thing. And 
this distemper principally reigned in the school of Paracelsus, 
and some others, though originally derived from the rabbies 
and cabbalists. But these men fail of their end ; for they 
do not, by this means, honour the Scriptures as they imagine, 
but rather debase and pollute them. For they who seek a 
material heaven, and a material earth, in the word of God, 
absurdly seek for transitory things among eternal. To look 
for theology in philosophy is looking for the living among 
the dead, and to look for philosophy in theology is to look 
for the dead among the living. 

The other excess, in the manner of interpretation, appears, 
at first sight, just and sober ; yet greatly dishonours the 
Scriptures, and greatly injures the church, by explaining the 
inspired writings in the same manner as human writings are 
explained. For we must remember, that to God, the author of 
the Scriptures, those two things lie open which are concealed 
from men ; the secrets of the heart, and the successions of time. 
Therefore, as the dictates of Scripture are directed to the 
heart, and include the vicissitudes of all ages, along with an 
eternal and certain foreknowledge of all heresies, contradic- 
tions, and the mutable states of the church, as well in general 
as in particulars, these Scriptures are not to be interpreted 
barely according to the obvious sense of the place, or with 
regard to the occasion upon which the words were spoken, 
or precisely by the context, or the principal scope of the 
passage, but upon a knowledge of their containing, not only 
in gross or collectively, but also distributively, in particular 
words and clauses, numberless rivulets and veins of doctrine, 
for watering all the parts of the church and all the minds of 
the faithful. For it is excellently observed, that the answers 
of our Saviour are not suited to many of the questions pro- 
posed to him, but appear, in a manner, impertinent : and 
this for two reasons, 1. because, as he knew the thoughts of 
those who put the question, not from their words as men 
know them, but immediately, and of himself, he answered to 
their thoughts, and not to their words ; and 2. because he 
spoke not to those alone who were present, but to us, also, 
uow living, and to the men of every age and place, where 



BOOK IX.] CONCLUSION. 37o 

the gospel shall be preached. And this observation holds in 
other parts of Scripture. 

We find, among theological writings, too many books of 
controversy ; a vast mass of that we call positive theology, 
common-places, particular treatises, cases of conscience, ser- 
mons, homilies, and numerous prolix comments upon the 
several books of the Scriptures : but the thing we want and 
propose, as our third appendix to theology, is, a short, sound, 
and judicious collection ot notes and observations upon par- 
ticular texts oi Scripture ; without running into common- 
place, pursuing controversies, or reducing these notes to 
artificial method ; but leaving them quite loose and native — 
a thing we find something done in the more learned kind of 
sermons, which are seldom of long duration, though it has 
not hitherto prevailed in books designed for posterity. But 
certainly, as those wines which flow from the first treading 
of the grape are sweeter and better than those forced out by 
the press, which gives them the roughness of the husk and 
the stone; so are those doctrines best and wholesomest, 
which flow from a gentle crush ot the Scripture, and are not 
wrung into controversies and common- place. And this trea- 
tise we set down as wanting, under the title of the first 
Sowings of the Scriptures. 

And now we have finished our small globe of the intellec- 
tual world with all the exactness we could, marking out and 
describing those parts of it which we find either not con- 
stantly inhabited or not sufficiently cultivated. And if 
through the course of the work we should anywhere seem to 
depart from the opinion of the ancients, we would have it 
remembered that this is not done for the sake of novelty, or 
striking into different paths from them, but with a desire of 
improving; for we could neither act consistently with our- 
selves nor the design, without resolving to add all we could 
fco the inventions of others, at the same time wishing that 
our own discoveries may be exceeded by those of posterity. 
And how fairly we have dealt in this matter may appear from 
hence, that our opinions are everywhere proposed naked and 
undefended, without endeavouring to bribe the liberty ot 
others by confutations ; ior where the things advanced prove 
just, we hope that i£ any scruple or objection arise in the first 
reading, an answer will of itself be made in the second. And 



376 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [COOK IX. 

wherever we have erred, we are certain to have done no 
violence to the truth by litigious arguments, the effect 
whereof is the procuring authority to error, and detracting 
from what is well invented; for error receives honour and 
truth a repulse from contention. 

And here I cannot but reflect how appositely that answer 
of Themistocles may be applied to myself which he made to 
the deputy of a small village haranguing upon great things, 
" Friend, thy words require a city." For so it may be said of 
my views, that they require an age, perhaps a whole age, to 
prove, and numerous ages to execute. But as the greatest 
things are owing to their beginnings, it will be enough for 
me to have sown for posterity, and the honour of the Im- 
mortal Being, whom I humbly entreat, through his Son, our 
Saviour, favourably to accept these, and the like sacrifices of 
the human understanding, seasoned with religion, and offered 
up to his glory! 



THE COAST OP THE NEW INTELLECTUAL WOULD; 

OE, A RECAPITULATION OF THE DEFICIENCIES OF KNOWLEDGE, POINTED 
OUT IN THE PRECEDING WORK, TO BE SUPPLIED BY POSTERITY. 

The History of Monsters ; or irregular productions of 
nature, in all the three kingdoms, — vegetable, animal, and 
mineral. 

The History of Arts ; or nature formed and wrought by 
human industry. 

A well-purged History of Nature in her extent ; or the 
phenomena of the universe. 

Inductive History; or historical matters consequentially 
deduced from phenomena, facts, observations, experiments, 
arts, and the active sciences. 

An Universal Literary History; or the affairs relating to 
learning and knowledge, in all ages and countries of the 
world. 

Biography ; or the lives of all eminent persons. 

The History of Prophecy ; or the accomplishment of Di- 



BOOK IX.] DEFICIENCIES OF KNOWLEDGE. 377 

vine predictions, to serve as a guide in the interpretation of 
prophecies. 

The Philosophy of the Ancient Fables ; or a just inter- 
pretation of the mythology of the ancients. 

Primary Philosophy; or a collection of general axioms, 
subservient to all the sciences. 

Physical Astronomy ; or a philosophical history of the 
heavens. 

A Just Astrology; or the real effects of the celestial 
bodies upon the terrestrial. 

A Calendar of Doubts; or natural problems, to be con- 
tinued through all ages, along with a calendar of vulgar 
errors. 

A Collection of the Opinions of the Ancient Philosophers. 

An Inquiry into the Simple Forms of Things; or that 
which constitutes their essences and differences. 

Natural Magic ; relative to the doctrine of forms. 

An Inventory of Knowledge; or an account of the stock 
of learning among mankind. 

A Calendar of leading Experiments ; for the better inter- 
pretation of nature. 

Short and commodious Methods of Calculation, in busi- 
ness, astronomy, &c. 

The Doctrine of Gesture; or the motions of the body, 
with a view to their interpretation. 

Comparative Anatomy betwixt different Human Bodies. 

A work upon Incurable Diseases, to lessen their number, 
and fix a true notion of incurable in medicine. 

The Laudable Means of procuring easy Deaths. 

A Set of approved and effectual Remedies for Diseases. 

The Ways of Imitating Natural Springs and Bath Waters. 

The Filum Medicinale; or Physician's Clue in Prescrip- 
tion. 

A Natural Philosophy fundamental to Physic. 

The Wavs of Prolonging Life. 

An Inquiry into the Nature and Substance of the sensi- 
tive Soul. 

The Doctrine of Muscular Motion ; or the efficacy of the 
spirits in moving the body. 

The Doctrine of Sense and Sensibility; or the difference 
betwixt perception and sense. 



378 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK IX. 

An Inquiry into the Origin and Form of Light; or the 
foundation of optics. 

The Art of Inventing Arts. 

The True Use of Induction in Philosophy. 

The Art of Indication or Direction in Philosophy. 

A Learned or Sagacious Kind of Experience, different 
from the vulgar, and leading to the direct improvement of 
arts. 

A Particular Topical Invention, directed by the light of 
leading questions, or proper heads of inquiry. 

The Doctrine of Idols ; or a detection and confutation of 
the prejudices, false conceptions, and errors of the mind. 

A New Engine; or helps for the mind corresponding to 
those of the hand. 

An Appendix to the Art of Judgment; assigning the 
kinds of demonstration proper to every subject. 

An Interpretation of the Marks, Signatures, or Impres- 
sions of things. 

A Philosophical Grammar; or an account of the various 
properties of different languages, in order to form one per- 
fect pattern of speech. 

The Traditive Lamp ; or the proper method of delivering 
down the sciences to posterity. 

The Doctrine of Prudence in private discourse ; or colours 
of good and ill. 

A Collection of Sophisms, with their confutations. 

A Collection of studied Antithets; or short and strong 
sentences, on both sides of the question, in a variety of sub- 
jects. 

A Collection of lesser Porms of Speech, for all the occa- 
sions of writing and speaking. 

Sober Satire ; or the insides of things. 

The Georgics of the Mind; or the means of procuring the 
true moral habit of virtue. 

An Account of the Characters or Natures of Persons. 

The Doctrine of the Affections, Passions, or Perturbations 
of the Mind. 

The Secretary to the Uses of Life; or the doctrine of 
various occasions. 

The Doctrine of Business; or books upon all kinds of civil 
employments, arts, trades, &c. 



BOOK IX.] DEFICIENCIES OP KNOWLEDGE. 379 

Self-Policy, the doctrine of rising in life; or the means of 
advancing a man's private fortune. 

The Military Statesman ; or the political doctrine of en- 
larging the bounds of empire. 

The Doctrine of Universal Justice; or the fountains of 
equity. 

The Moderator in Divinity; or the true use of human 
reason in the business of revelation. 

The Degrees of Unity in Religion adjusted, with a view 
to preserve the peace of the Church. , 

The First Flowings oi the Scripture; or a set of short, 
sound, and judicious notes upon particular texts, tending to 
use and practice. 



NOVUM ORGANUM; 

OR, 

TRUE SUGGESTIONS FOR THE INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 



PREFACE. 

They who have presumed to dogmatize on nature, as on some well 
investigated subject, either from self-conceit or arrogance, and in the 
professorial style, have inflicted the greatest injury on philosophy and 
learning. For they have tended to stifle and interrupt inquiry exactly 
in proportion as they have prevailed in bringing others to their opinion : 
and their own activity has not counterbalanced the mischief they have 
occasioned by corrupting and destroying that of others. They again 
who have entered upon a contrary course, and asserted that nothing 
whatever can be known, whether they have fallen into this opinion from 
their hatred of the ancient sophists, or from the hesitation of their 
minds, or from an exuberance of learning, have certainly adduced 
reasons for it which are by no means contemptible. They have not, how- 
ever, derived their opinion from true sources, and, hurried on by their 
zeal and some affectation, have certainly exceeded due moderation. But 
the more ancient Greeks (whose writings have perished), held a more 
prudent mean, between the arrogance of dogmatism, and the despair 
of scepticism ; and though too frequently intermingling complaints and 
indignation at the difficulty of inquiry, and the obscurity of things, and 
champing, as it were, the bit, have still persisted in pressing their point, 
and pursuing their intercourse with nature ; thinking, as it seems, that 
the better method was not to dispute upon the very point of the possi- 
bility of anything being known, but to put it jto the test of experience. 
Yet they themselves, by only employing the power of the understand- 
ing, have not adopted a fixed rule, but have laid their whole stress upon 
intense meditation, and a continual exercise and perpetual agitation of 
the mind. 

Our method, though difficult in its operation, is easily explained. It 
consists in determining the degrees of certainty, whilst we, as it were, 
restore the senses to their former rank, but generally reject that opera- 
tion of the mind which follows close upon the senses, and open and 
establish a new and certain course for the mind from 'the first actual 
perceptions of the senses themselves. This, no doubt, was the view 
taken by those who have assigned so much to logic ; showing clearly 
thereby that they sought some support for the mind, and suspected its 
natural and spontaneous mode of action. But this is now employed too 
late as a remedy, when all is clearly lost, and after the mind, by the 



PREFACE. 381 

daily habit and intercourse of life, has come prepossessed with corrupted 
doctrines, and filled with the vainest idols. The art of logic therefore 
being (as we have mentioned), too late a precaution/ and in no way re- 
medying the matter, has tended more to confirm errors, than to disclose 
truth. Our only remaining hope and salvation is to begin the whole 
labour of the mind again ; not leaving it to itself, but directing it per- 
petually from the very first, and attaining our end as it were by mechani- 
cal aid. If men, for instance, had attempted mechanical labours with 
their hands alone, and without the power and aid of Instruments, as they 
have not hesitated to carry on the labours of their understanding with 
the unaided efforts of their mind, they would have been able to move 
and overcome but little, though they had exerted their utmost and 
united powers. And just to pause awhile on this comparison, and look 
into it as a mirror ; let us ask, if any obelisk of a remarkable size were 
perchance required to be moved, for the purpose of gracing a triumph 
or any similar pageant, and men were to attempt it with their bare 
hands, would not any sober spectator avow it to be an act of the 
greatest madness ? And if they should increase the number of work- 
men, and imagine that they could thus succeed, would he not think so 
still more ? But if they chose to make a selection, and to remove the 
weak, and only employ the strong and vigorous, thinking by this means, 
at any rate, to achieve their object, would he not say that they were 
more fondly deranged ? Nay, if not content with this, they were to 
determine on consulting the athletic art, and were to give orders for all 
to appear with their hands, arms, and muscles regularly oiled and pre- 
pared, would he not exclaim that they were taking pains to rave by 
method and design ? Yet men are hurried on with the same senseless 
energy and useless combination in intellectual matters, as long as they 
expect great results either from the number and agreement, or the ex- 
cellence and acuteness of their wits ; or even strengthen their minds 
with logic, which may be considered as an athletic preparation, but yet 
do not desist (if we rightly consider the matter) from applying their own 
understandings merely with all this zeal and effort. Whilst nothing is 
more clear, than that in every great work executed by the hand of man 
without machines or implements, it is impossible for the strength of 
individuals to be increased, or for that of the multitude to combine. 

Having premised so much, we lay down two points on which we 
would admonish mankind, lest they should fail to see or to observe them. 
The first of these is, that it is our good fortune (as we consider it), for 
the sake of extinguishing and removing contradiction and irritation of 
mind, to leave the honour and reverence due to the ancients untouched 
and undiminished, so that we can perform our intended work, and yet 
enjoy the benefit of our respectful moderation. For if we should pro- 
fess to offer something better than the ancients, and yet should pursue 

a Because it was idle to draw a logical conclusion from false princi- 
ples, error being propagated as much by false premises, which logic does 
not pretend to examine, as by illegitimate inference. Hence, as Bacon 
says farther on, men being easily led to confound legitimate inference 
with truth, were confirmed in their errors by the very subtilty of their 
genius. Ed, 



382 PHEFACE. 

the same course as they have done, we could never, by any artifice, con- 
trive to avoid the imputation of having engaged in a contest or rivalry 
as to our respective wits, excellencies, or talents ; which, though 
neither inadmissible or new (for why should we not blame and point 
out anything that is imperfectly discovered or laid down by them, of our 
own right, a right common to all), yet however just and allowable, 
would perhaps be scarcely an equal match, on account of the dispro- 
portion of our strength. But since our present plan leads up to open 
an entirely different course to the understanding, and one unattempted 
and unknown to them, the case is altered. There is an end to party 
zeal, and we only take upon ourselves the character of a guide, which 
requires a moderate share of authority and good fortune, rather than 
talents and excellence. The first admonition relates to persons, the next 
to things. 

We make no attempt to disturb the system of philosophy that now 
prevails, or any other which may or will exist, either more correct or 
more complete. For we deny not that the received system of philosophy, 
and others of a similar nature, encourage discussion, embellish ha- 
rangues, are employed, and are of service in the duties of the professor, 
and the affairs of civil life. Nay, we openly express and declare that 
the philosophy we offer will not be very useful in such respects. It is 
not obvious, nor to be understood in a cursory view, nor does it flatter 
the mind in its preconceived notions, nor will it descend to the level of 
the generality of mankind unless by its advantages and effects. 

Let there exist then (and may it be of advantage to both), two 
sources, and two distributions of learning, and in like manner two tribes, 
and as it were kindred families of contemplators or philosophers, with- 
out any hostility or alienation between them ; but rather allied and 
united by mutual assistance. Let there be in short one method of cul- 
tivating the sciences, and another of discovering them. And as for 
those who prefer and more readily receive the former, on account oi 
their haste or from motives arising from their ordinary life, or because 
they are unable from weakness of mind to comprehend and embrace the 
other (which must necessarily be the case with by far the greater 
number), let us wish that they may prosper as they desire in their un- 
dertaking, and attain what they pursue. But if any individual desire, 
and is anxious not merely to adhere to, and make use of present dis- 
coveries, but to penetrate still further, and not to overcome his 
adversaries in disputes, but nature by labour, not in short to give 
elegant and specious opinions, but to know to a certainty and demon- 
stration, let him, as a true son of science (ii such be his wish), join with 
us ; that when he has left the antichambers of nature trodden by the 
multitude, an entrance may at last be discovered to her inner apart- 
ments. And in order to be better understood, and to render our 
meaning more familiar by assigning determinate names, we have accus- 
tomed ourselves to call the one method the anticipation 01 the mind, 
and the other the interpretation of nature. 

We have still one request left. We have at least reflected and taken 
pains in order to render our propositions not only true, but of easy and 
familiar access to men's minds, however wonderfully prepossessed and 
limited. Yet it is but just that we should obtain this favour from 



BOOK I.] APIIOEISMS. 383 

mankind (especially in so great a restoration of learning and the sciences), 
that whosoever may be desirous of forming any determination upon an 
opinion oi this our work either from his own perceptions, or the crowd 
of authorities, or the forms of demonstrations, he will not expect to be 
able to do so in a cursory manner, and whilst attending to other 
matters ; but in order to have a thorough knowledge of the subject, 
will himself by degrees attempt the course which we describe and 
maintain ; will be accustomed to the subtilty of things which is 
manifested by experience ; and will correct the depraved and deeply 
rooted habits of his mind by a seasonable, and, as it were, just hesita- 
tion : and then, finally (if he will), use his judgment when he has begun 
to be master of himseli. 



APHORISMS.— BOOK I. 

On the Interpretation of Nature and the Empire of Man. 

I. Man, as the minister and interpreter of nature, does and 
understands as much as his observations on the order of nature, 
either with regard to things or the mind, permit him, and 
neither knows nor is capable of more. 

II. The unassisted hand and the understanding left to itself 
possess but little power. Effects are produced by the means of 
instruments and helps, which the understanding requires no less 
than the hand ; and as instruments either promote or regulate 
the motion of the hand, so those that are applied to the mind 
prompt or protect the understanding. 

III. Knowledge and human power are synonymous, since 
the ignorance of the cause frustrates the effect; for nature is 
only subdued by submission, and that which in contemplative 
philosophy corresponds with the cause in practical science be- 
comes the rule. 

IV. Man whilst operating can only apply or withdraw natural 
bodies, nature internally performs the rest. 

V. Those who become practically versed in nature are, the 
mechanic, the mathematician, the physician, the alchemist, and 
the magician* but all (as matters now stand) with faint efforts 
and meagre success. 

a Bacon uses the term in its ancient sense, and means one who, 
knowing the occult properties of bodies, is able to startle the ignorant by 
drawing out of them wonderful and unforeseen changes. See the 85th 
aphorism of this book, and the 5th cap. book iii. of the De Augmentis 
Scientiarum, where he speaks more clearly. 



384 NOVUM OBGANUM. [BOOK I. 

VI. It would be madness and inconsistency to suppose that 
things which have never yet been performed can be performed 
without employing some hitherto untried means. 

VII. The creations of the mind and hand appear very nume- 
rous, if we judge by books and manufactures ; but all that 
variety consists of an excessive refinement, and of deductions 
from a few well known matters, — not of a number of axioms. h 

VIII. Even the effects already discovered are due to chance 
and experiment rather than to the sciences; for our present 
sciences are nothing more than peculiar arrangements of matters 
already discovered, and not methods for discovery or plans for 
new operations. 

IX. The sole cause and root of almost every defect in the 
sciences is this, that while we falsely admire and extol the powers 
of the human mind, we do not search for its real helps. 

X. The subtilty of nature is far beyond that of sense or of the 
understanding; so that the specious meditations, speculations, 
and theories of mankind are but a kind of insanity, only there is 
no one to stand by and observe it. 

XI. As the present sciences are useless for the discovery of 
effects, so the present system of logic is useless for the discovery 
of the sciences. 

b By this term axiomata, Bacon here speaks of general principles, or 
universal laws. In the 19th aphorism he employs the term to express 
any proposition collected from facts by induction, and thus fitted to 
become the starting-point of deductive reasoning. In the last and more 
rigorous sense of the term, Bacon held they arose from experience. 
See Whewell's " Philosophy of the Inductive Sciences," vol. i. p. 74 ; 
and Mill's ''Logic," vol. i. p. 311; and the June "Quarterly," 1841, 
for the modern phase of the discussion. Ed. 

c Bacon here attributes to the Aristotelian logic the erroneous conse- 
quences which sprung out of its abuse. The demonstrative forms it 
exhibits, whether verbally or mathematically expressed, are necessary to 
the support, verification, and extension of induction, and when the 
propositions they embrace are founded on an accurate and close 
observation of facts, the conclusions to which they lead, even in moral 
science, may be regarded as certain as the facts wrested out of nature 
by direct experiment. In physics such forms are absolutely required 
to generalize the results of experience, and to connect intermediate 
axioms with laws still more general, as is sufficiently attested by the 
fact, that no science since Bacon's day has ceased to be experimental by 
the mere method of induction, and that all become exact only so far as 
they rise above experience, and connect their isolated phenomena with 
general laws by the principles of deductive reasoning. So far, then, are 
these forms from being useless, that they are absolutely essential to the 
advancement of the sciences, and in no case can be looked on as detrimen- 
tal, except when obtruded in the place of direct experiment, or employed 
as a means of deducing conclusions about nature from imaginary hypo- 



book i.] aphorisms. 385 

XII. The present system of logic rather assists in confirming 
and rendering inveterate the errors founded on vulgar notions 
than in searching after truth, and is therefore more hurtful than 
useful. 

XIII. The syllogism is not applied to the principles of the 
sciences, and is of no avail in intermediate axioms, as being very 

theses and abstract conceptions. This had been unfortunately the prac- 
tice of the Greeks. From the rapid development geometry received in 
their hands, they imagined the same method would lead to results 
equally brilliant in natural science, and snatching up some abstract 
principle, which they carefully removed from the test of experiment, 
imagined they could reason out from it all the laws and external appear- 
ances of the universe. The scholastics were impelled along the same 
path, not only by precedent, but by profession. Theology was the 
only science which received from them a consistent development, 
and the a priori grounds on which it rested prevented them from 
employing any other method in the pursuit of natural phenomena. 
Thus, forms of demonstration, in themselves accurate, and of momentous 
value in their proper sphere, became confounded with fable, and led 
men into the idea they were exploring truth when they were only 
accurately deducing error from error. One principle ever so slightly 
deflected, like a false quantity in an equation, could be sufficient to 
infect the whole series of conclusions of which it was the base ; and 
though the philosopher might subsequently deduce a thousand consecu- 
tive inferences with the utmost accuracy or precision, he would only 
succeed in drawing out very methodically nine hundred and ninety-nine 
errors. Ed. 

c It would appear from thi3 and the two preceding aphorisms, that 
Bacon fell into the error of denying the utility of the syllogism in 
the very part of inductive science where it is essentially required ; 
Logic, like mathematics, is purely a formal process, and must, as the 
scaffolding to the building, be employed to arrange facts in the struc- 
ture of a science, and not to form any portion of its ground-work, or 
to supply the materials of which the system is to be composed. The 
word syllogism, like most other pyschological terms, has no fixed or 
original signification, but is sometimes employed, as it was by the 
Greeks, to denote general reasoning, and at others to point out the 
formal method of deducing a particular inference from two or more general 
propositions. Bacon does not confine the term within the boundaries of 
express definition, but leaves us to infer that he took it in the latter 
sense, from his custom of associating the term with the wranglings of 
the schools. The scholastics, it is true, abused the deductive syllogism, 
by employing it in its naked, skeleton-like form, and confounding it 
with the whole breadth of logical theory ; but their errors are not to be 
visited on Aristotle, who never dreamt of playing with formal syllo- 
gisms, and, least of all, mistook the descending for the ascending 
series of inference. In our mind we are of accord with the Stagy rite, 
who propounds, as far as we can interpret him, two modes of investi- 
gating truth, — the one by which we ascend from particular and singular 
facts to general laws and axioms, and the other by which we descend 

2 2c 



) 

386 1.N0VUM ORGANUM. [BOOK I. 

unequal -to the subtil tylof nature. It forces assent, therefore, 
and not things. \ 

XIV. The syllogism consists of propositions, propositions of 
words, words are the sign*? of notions. If, therefore, the notions 
(which form the basis of 'the whole) be confused and carelessly 
abstracted from things, there is no solidity in the superstructure. 
Our only hope, then, is in genuine induction. 

XV. We have no sound notions either in logic or physics ; 
substance, quality, action, passion, and existence are not clear 
notions ; much less weight., levity, density, tenuity, moisture, 
dryness, generation, corruption, attraction, repulsion, element, 
matter, form, and the like. They are all fantastical and ill- 
defined. 

XVI. The notions of less abstract natures, as man, dog, dove, 
and the immediate perceptions of sense, as heat, cold, white, 
black, do not deceive us materially, yet even these are some- 
times confused by the mutability of matter and the intermixture 
of things. All the rest which men have hitherto employed are 
errors, and improperly abstracted and deduced from things. 

XVII. There is the same degree of licentiousness and error 
in forming axioms as in abstracting notions, and that in the first 
principles, which depend on common induction; still more is 
this the case in axioms and inferior propositions derived from 
syllogisms. 

XVIII. The present discoveries in science are such as lie 
immediately beneath the surface of common notions. It is 
necessary, however, to penetrate the more secret and remote 
parts of nature, in order to abstract both notions and axioms 
from things by a more certain and guarded method. 

XIX. There are and can exist but two ways of investigating 
and discovering truth. The one hurries on rapidly from the 
senses and particulars to the most general axioms, and from 
them, as principles and their supposed indisputable truth, derives 
and discovers the intermediate axioms. This is the way now in 
use. The other constructs its axioms from the senses and parti- 
culars, by ascending continually and gradually, till it finally 
arrives at the most general axioms, which is the true but unat- 
tempted way. 

XX. The understanding when left to itself proceeds by the 

from universal propositions to the individual cases which they virtually 
include. Logic, therefore, must equally vindicate the formal purity of 
the synthetic illation by which it ascends to the whole, as the analytic- 
process by which it descends to the oarts. The deductive and inductive 
syllogism are of equal significance in building up any body oi truth, 
and whoever restricts logic to eithe process, mistakes one half of its 
province for the whole ; and if he aHs upon his error, will paralyse his 
methods, and strike the noblest parr of science with sterility. Ed, 






BOOK I.] APHORISMS. 387 

same way as that which it would have adopted under the 
guidance of logic, namely, the first; for the mind is fond of 
starting off to generalities, that it may avoid labour, and after 
dwelling a little on a subject is fatigued by experiment. But 
those evils are augmented by logic, for the sake of the ostenta- 
tion of dispute. 

XXI. The understanding, when left to itself in a man of a 
steady, patient, and reflecting disposition (especially when unim- 
peded by received doctrines), makes some attempt in the right 
way, but with little effect, since the understanding, undirected 
and unassisted, is unequal to and unfit for the task of vanquish- 
ingthe obscurity of things. 

XXII. Each of these two ways begins from the senses and 
particulars, and ends in the greatest generalities. But they are 
immeasurably different ; for the one merely touches cursorily 
the limits of experiment and particulars, whilst the other runs 
duly and regularly through them, — the one from the very outset 
lays down some abstract and useless generalities, the other gra- 
dually rises to those principles which are really the most common 
in nature. d 

XXIII. There is no small difference between the idols of the 
human mind and the ideas of the Divine mind, — that is to say, 
between certain idle dogmas and the real stamp and impression 
of created objects, as they are found in nature. 

XXIV. Axioms determined upon in argument can never 
assist in the discovery of new effects ; for the subtilty of nature 
is vastly superior to that of argument. But axioms properly and 
regularly abstracted from particulars easily point out and define 
new particulars, and therefore impart activity to the sciences. 

XXV. The axioms now in use are derived from a scanty hand- 
ful, as it were, of experience, and a few particulars of frequent 
occurrence, whence they are of much the same dimensions or 
extent as their origin. And if any neglected or unknown in- 
stance occurs, the axiom is saved by some frivolous distinction, 
when it would be more consistent with truth to amend it. 

XXVI. We are wont, for the sake of distinction, to call that 
human reasoning which we apply to nature the anticipation of 
nature (as being rash and premature), and that which is properly 
deduced from things the interpretation of nature. 

XXVII. Anticipations are sufficiently powerful in producing 
d The Latin is, ad ea quce revera sunt natures riotiora. This expression, 

natural notiora, natural notior, is so frequently employed by Bacon, that 
we may conclude it to point to some distinguishing feature in the Baco- 
nian physics. It properly refers to the most evident principles and 
laws of nature, and springs from that system which regards the material 
universe as endowed with intelligence, and acting according to rule3 
either fashioned or clearly understood by itself. EcL 

2c2 



388 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK I« 

unanimity, for if men were all to become even uniformly mad, 
they might agree tolerably well with each other. 

XXVIII. Anticipations, again, will be assented to much more 
readily than interpretations, because being deduced from a few 
instances, and these principally of familiar occurrence, they im- 
mediately hit the understanding and satisfy the imagination ; 
whilst on the contrary interpretations, being deduced from 
various subjects, and these widely dispersed, cannot suddenly 
strike the understanding, so that in common estimation they 
must appear difficult and discordant, and almost like the mys- 
teries of faith. 

XXIX. In sciences founded on opinions and dogmas, it is 
right to make use of anticipations and logic if you wish to force 
assent rather than things. 

XXX. If all the capacities of all ages should unite and com- 
bine and transmit their labours, no great progress will be made 
in learning by anticipations, because the radical errors, and those 
which occur in the first process of the mind, are not cured by 
the excellence of subsequent means and remedies. 

XXXI. It is in vain to expect any great progress in the 
sciences by the superinducing or engrafting new matters upon 
old. An instauration must be made from the very foundations, 
if we do not wish to revolve for ever in a circle, making only 
some slight and contemptible progress. 

XXXII. The ancient authors and all others are left in undis- 
puted possession of their honours ; for we enter into no compa- 
rison of capacity or talent, but of method, and assume the part 
of a guide rather than of a critic. 

XXXIII. To speak plainly, no correct judgment can be 
formed either of our method or its discoveries by those anticipa- 
tions which are now in common use ; for it is not to be required 
of us to submit ourselves to the judgment of the very method 
we ourselves arraign. 

XXXIYc Nor is it an easy matter to deliver and explain our 
sentiments ; for those things which are in themselves new can 
yet be only understood from some analogy to what is old. 

XXXV. Alexander Borgia 6 said of the expedition of the 
French into Italy that they came with chalk in their hands to 
mark up their lodgings, and not with weapons to force their 
passage. Even so do we wish our philosophy to make its way 
quietly into those minds that are fit for it, and of good capacity; 
for we have no need of contention where we differ in first prin- 

e This Borgia was Alexander VI., and the expedition alluded to that 
in which Charles VIII. overran the Italian peninsula in five months, 
Bacon uses the same illustration in concluding his survey of natural 
philosophy, in the second book of the "De Augmentis." Ed, 



BOOK I.] APHORISMS. 389 

ciples, and in our very notions, and even in our forms of demon- 
stration. 

XXXVI. We have but one simple method of delivering our 
sentiments, namely, we must bring men to particulars and their 
regular series and order, and they must for a while renounce 
their notions, and begin to form an acquaintance with things. 

XXXVII. Our method and that of the sceptics f agree in some 
respects at first setting out, but differ most widely, and are 
completely opposed to each other in their conclusion ; for they 
roundly assert that nothing can be known ; we, that but a small 
part of nature can be known, by the present method ; their next 
step, however, is to destroy the authority of the senses and un- 
derstanding, whilst we invent and supply them with assistance. 

XXXVIII. The idols and false notions which have already 
preoccupied the human understanding, and are deeply rooted in 
it, not only so beset men's minds that they become difficult of 
access, but even when access is obtained will again meet and 
trouble us in the instauration of the sciences, unless mankind 
when forewarned guard themselves with all possible care against 
them. 

XXXIX. Four species of idols beset the human mind, g to 
which (for distinction's sake) we have assigned names, calling 
the first Idols of the Tribe, the second Idols of the Den, the third 
Idols of the Market, the fourth Idols of the Theatre. 

XL. The formation of notions and axioms on the foundation 
of true induction is the only fitting remedy by which we can 
ward off and expel these idols. It is, however, of great service 
to point them out ; for the doctrine of idols bears the same rela- 
tion to the interpretation of nature as that of the confutation of 
sophisms does to common logic. 11 

f Ratio eorum qui acatalepsiam tenuerunt. BacoD alludes to the 
members of the later academy, who held the dicaTa\i]\pia, or the impos- 
sibility of comprehending anything. His translator, however, makes 
him refer to the Sceptics, who neither dogmatised about the known or 
the unknown, but simply held, that as all knowledge was relative, 
7rpog Trdvra n i man could never arrive at absolute truth, and therefore 
could not with certainty affirm or deny anything. Ed. 

£ It is argued by Hallam, with some appearance of truth, that idols 
is not the correct translation of ddu)\a, from which the original idola is 
manifestly derived ; but that Bacon used it in the literal sense attached • 
to it by the Greeks, as a species of illusion, or false appearance, and not 
as a species of divinity before which the mind bows down. If Hallam be 
right, Bacon is saved from the odium of an analogy which his foreign 
commentators are not far wrong in denouncing as barbarous ; but this 
service is rendered at the expense of the men who have attached an 
opposite meaning to the word, among whom are Brown, Playfair, and 
Dugald Stewart. Ed. 

h We cannot see how these idols have less to do with sophistical 



390 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK I. 

XLI. The idols of the tribe are inherent in human nature and 
the very tribe or race of man ; for man's sense is falsely asserted 
to be the standard of things ; on the contrary, all the perceptions 
both of the senses and the mind bear reference to man and not 
to the universe, and the human mind resembles those uneven 
mirrors which impart their own properties to different objects, 
from which rays are emitted and distort and disfigure them. 1 

XLII. The idols of the den are those of each individual ; for 
everybody (in addition to the errors common to the race of man) 
has his own individual den or cavern, which intercepts and 
corrupts the light of nature, either from his own peculiar and 
singular disposition, or from his education and intercourse with 
others, or from his reading, and the authority acquired by those 
whom he reverences and admires, or from the different impres- 
sions produced on the mind, as it happens to be preoccupied 
and predisposed, or equable and tranquil, and the like ; so that 
the spirit of man (according to its several dispositions), is va- 
riable, confused, and as it were actuated by chance ; and Hera- 
clitus said well that men search for knowledge in lesser worlds, 
and not in the greater or common world. 

XLIII. There are also idols formed by the reciprocal inter- 
course and society of man with man, which we call idols of the 
market, from the commerce and association of men with each 
other ; for men converse by means of language, but words are 
formed at the will of the generality, and there arises from a bad 
and unapt formation of words a wonderful obstruction to the 
mind. Nor can the definitions and explanations with which 
learned men are wont to guard and protect themselves in some 
instances afford a complete remedy,—- words still manifestly force 

paralogisms than with natural philosophy. The process of scientific 
induction involves only the first elements of reasoning, and presents 
such a clear and tangible surface, as to allow no lurking-place for pre- 
judice ; while questions of politics and morals, to which the deductive 
method, or common logic, as Bacon calls it, is peculiarly applicable, are 
ever liable to be swayed or perverted by the prejudices he enumerates. 
After mathematics, physical science is the least amenable to the illusions 
of feeling ; each portion having been already tested by experiment and 
observation, is fitted into its place in the system, with all the rigour of 
the geometrical method ; affection or prejudice cannot, as in matters of 
taste, history, or religion, select fragmentary pieces, and form a system 
of their own. The whole must be admitted, or the structure of au- 
thoritative reason razed to the ground. It is needless to say that the 
idols enumerated present only another interpretation of the substance 
of logical fallacies. Ed. 

1 The propensity to this illusion may be viewed in the spirit of system, 
or hasty generalization, which is still one of the chief obstacles in the 
path of modern science. Ed. 



BOOK I.] APHORISMS. 391 

the understanding, throw everything into confusion, and lead 
mankind into vain and innumerable controversies and fallacies. 

XLIV. Lastly, there are idols which have crept into men's 
minds from the various dogmas of peculiar systems of philo- 
sophy, and also from the perverted rules of demonstration, and 
these we denominate idols of the theatre : for we regard all the 
systems of philosophy hitherto received or imagined, as so many 
plays brought out and performed, creating fictitious and thea- 
trical worlds. Nor do we speak only of the present systems, or 
of the philosophy and sects of the ancients, since numerous 
other plays of a similar nature can be still composed and made 
to agree with each other, the causes of the most opposite errors 
being generally the same. 1ST or, again, do we allude merely to 
general systems, but also to many elements and axioms of 
sciences which have become inveterate by tradition, implicit 
credence, and neglect. "We must, however, discuss each species 
of idols more fully and distinctly in order to guard the human 
understanding against them. 

XLV. The human understanding, from its peculiar nature, 
easily supposes a greater degree of order and equality in things 
than it really finds ; and although many things in nature be sui 
generis and most irregular, will yet invent parallels and conju- 
gates and relatives, where no such thing is. Hence the fiction, 
that all celestial bodies move in perfect circles, thus rejecting 
entirely spiral and serpentine lines (except as explanatory 
terms) . k Hence also the element of fire is introduced with its 
peculiar orbit, 1 to keep square with those other three which are 

k Though Kepler had, when Bacon wrote this, already demonstrated his 
three great laws concerning the elliptical path of the planets, neither 
Bacon nor Descartes seem to have known or assented to his discoveries. 
Our author deemed the startling astronomical announcements of his time 
to be mere theoretic solutions of the phenomena oi the heavens, not so 
perfect as those advanced by antiquity, but still deserving a praise for 
the ingenuity displayed in their contrivance. Bacon believed a hundred 
such systems might exist, and though true in their explanation of phe- 
nomena, yet might all more or less differ, according to the preconceived 
notions which their framers brought to the survey of the heavens. He 
even thought he might put in his claim to the notice of posterity for his 
astronomical ingenuity, and, as Ptolemy had laboured by means of 
epicycles and eccentrics, and Kepler with ellipses, to explain the laws 
oi planetary motion, Bacon thought the mystery would unfold itself 
quite as philosophically through spiral labyrinths and serpentine lines. 
What the details of his system were, we are left to conjecture, and that 
from a very meagre but na'ive account of one of his inventions which he 
has left in his Miscellany MSS. Ed. 

1 Hinc elementum ignis cum orbe suo introductum est. Bacon saw 
in fire the mere result of a certain combination of action, and was 
consequently led to deny its elementary character. The ancient physi- 



392 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK I. 

objects of our senses. The relative rarity of the elements (as 
they are called) is arbitrarily made to vary in tenfold progres- 
sion, with many other dreams of the like nature. m 'Not is this 
folly confined to theories, but it is to be met with even in simple 
notions. 

XL VI. The human understanding, when any proposition has 
been once laid down (either from general admission and belief, 
or from the pleasure it affords), forces everything else to add 
fresh support and confirmation ; and although most cogent and 
abundant instances may exist to the contrary, yet either does 
not observe or despises them, or gets rid of and rejects them by 
some distinction, with violent and injurious prejudice, rather 
than sacrifice the authority of its first conclusions. It was well 
answered by him* who was shown in a temple the votive tablets 
suspended by such as had escaped the peril of shipwreck, and 
was pressed as to whether he would then recognise the power of 
the gods, by an inquiry, But where are the portraits of those 
who have perished in spite of their vows ? All superstition is 
much the same, whether it be that of astrology, dreams, omens, 
retributive judgment, or the like, in all of which the deluded 
believers observe events which are fulfilled, but neglect and pass 
over their failure, though it be much more common. But this 
evil insinuates itself still more craftily in philosophy and the 
sciences, in which a settled maxim vitiates and governs every 
other circumstance, though the latter be much more worthy of 
confidence. Besides, even in the absence of that eagerness and 
want of thought (which we have mentioned}, it is the peculiar 
and perpetual error of the human understanding to be more 
moved and excited by affirmatives than negatives, whereas it 
ought duly and regularly to be impartial ; nay, in establishing 
any true axiom the negative instance is the most powerful. 

SCLVIL The human understanding is most excited by that 
which strikes and enters the mind at once and suddenly, and by 
which, the imagination is immediately filled and inflated. It 
then begins almost imperceptibly to conceive and suppose that 
everything is similar to the few objects which have taken posses- 
cists attributed an orbit to each of the four elements, into which they 
resolved the universe, and supposed their spheres to involve each other. 
The orbit of the earth was in the centre, that of fire at the circum- 
ference. For Bacon's inquisition into the nature of heat, and its com- 
plete iailure, see the commencement of the second book of the Novum 
Organum. Ed. 

m Robert Fludd is the theorist alluded to, who had supposed the 
gTavity of the earth to be ten times heavier than water, that of water 
ten times heavier than air, and that of air ten times heavier than fire. Ed. 

n Diagoras. The same allusion occurs in the second part of the Ad- 
vancement of Learning, where Bacon treats of the idols of the mind. 



BOOK I.] APHORISMS. 393 

sion of the mind, whilst it is very slow and unfit for the transi- 
tion to the remote and heterogeneous instances by which axioms 
are tried as by fire, unless the office be imposed upon it by severe 
regulations and a powerful authority. 

^XLVIII. The human understanding is active and cannot halt 
or rest, but even, though without effect, still presses forward. 
Thus we cannot conceive of any end or external boundary of the 
world, and it seems necessarily to occur to us that there must be 
something beyond. Nor can we imagine how eternity has flowed 
on down to the present day, since the usually received distinc- 
tion of an infinity, a parte ante and a parte post cannot hold 
good; for it would thence follow that one infinity is greater 
than another, and also that infinity is wasting away and tending 
to an end. There is the same difficulty in considering the in- 
finite divisibility of lines arising from the weakness of our minds, 
which weakness interferes to still greater disadvantage with the 
discovery of causes ; for although the greatest generalities in 
nature must be positive, just as they are found, and in fact not 
causable, yet the human understanding, incapable of resting, 
seeks for something more intelligible. Thus, however, whilst 
aiming at further progress, it falls back to what is actually less 
advanced, namely, final causes ; for they are clearly more allied 
to man's own nature, than the system of the universe, and from 
this source they have wonderfully corrupted philosophy. But he 
would be an unskilful and shallow philosopher who should seek 
for causes in the greatest generalities, and not be anxious to dis- 
cover them in subordinate objects. 

XLIX. The human understanding resembles not a dry light, 
but admits a tincture of the will p and passions, which generate 

A scholastic term, to signify the two eternities of past and future 
duration, that stretch out on both sides of the narrow isthmus (time) 
occupied by man. It must be remembered that Bacon lived before the 
doctrine of limits gave rise to the higher calculus, and therefore could 
have no conception of different denominations of infinities : on the 
other hand he would have thought the man insane who should have 
talked to him about lines infinitely great, inclosing angles infinitely 
little ; that a right line, which is a right line so long as it is finite, by 
changing infinitely little its direction, becomes an infinite curve, and 
that a curve may become infinitely less than another curve ; that there 
are infinite squares, and infinite cubes, and infinites of infinites, all 
greater than one another, and the last but one of which is nothing in 
comparison with the last. Yet half a century sufficed from Bacon's 
time, to make this nomenclature, which would have appeared to him 
the excess of frenzy, not only reasonable but necessary, to grasp the 
higher demonstrations of physical science. Ed, 

p Spinoza, in his letter to Oldenberg (Op. Posth. p. 398), considers this 
aphorism based on a wrong conception of the origin of error, and, believ- 
ing it to be fundamental, was led to reject Bacon's method altogether. 



394 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK I. 

their own system accordingly; for man always believes more 
readily that which he prefers. He, therefore, rejects difficulties 
for want of patience in investigation ; sobriety, because it limits 
his hope ; the depths of nature, from superstition ; the light of 
experiment, from arrogance and pride, lest his mind should 
appear to be occupied with common and varying objects ; para- 
doxes, from a fear of the opinion of the vulgar ; in short, his 
feelings imbue and corrupt his understanding in innumerable 
and sometimes imperceptible ways. 

L. But by far the greatest impediment and aberration of the 
human understanding proceeds from the dulness, incompetency, 
and errors of the senses ; since whatever strikes the senses pre- 
ponderates over everything, however superior, which does not 
immediately strike them. Hence contemplation mostly ceases 
with sight, and a very scanty, or perhaps no regard is paid to 
invisible objects. The entire operation, therefore, of spirits en- 
closed in tangible bodies* 1 is concealed, and escapes us. All that 
more delicate change of formation in the parts of coarser sub- 
stances (vulgarly called alteration, but in fact a change of posi- 
tion in the smallest particles) is equally unknown ; and yet, un- 
less the two matters we have mentioned be explored and brought 
to light, no great effect can be produced in nature. Again, the 
very nature of common air, and all bodies of less density (of 
which there are many) is almost unknown ; for the senses are 
weak and erring, nor can instruments be of great use in extend- 
ing their sphere or acuteness, — all the better interpretations of 
nature are worked out by instances, and fit and apt experiments, 
where the senses only judge of the experiment, the experiment 
of nature and the thing itself. 

LI. The human understanding is, by its own nature, prone to 
abstraction, and supposes that which is fluctuating to be fixed. 
But it is better to dissect than abstract nature ; such was the 
method employed by the school of Democritus,* which made 

Spinoza refused to acknowledge in man any such thing as a will, and 
resolved all his volitions into particular acts, which he considered to be 
as fatally determined by a chain of physical causes as any effects in 
nature. Ed, 

? Operatio spirituum in corporibus tangibilibus. Bacon distin- 
guished with the schools the gross and tangible parts of bodies, from 
such as were volatile and untangible. These, in conformity with the 
scholastic language, he terms spirits, and frequently returns to their 
operations in the 2nd book. See vii. 4th para. b. 2. Ed. 

r Democritus, of Abdera, a disciple oi Leucippus, born B.C. 470, 
died 360 ; all his works are destroyed. He is said to be the author of 
the doctrine of atoms : he denied the immortality of the soul, and first 
taught that the milky way was occasioned by a conf used light from a 
multitude of stars. He may be considered as the parent oi experi- 



BOOK I.] APHORISMS. 395 

greater progress in penetrating nature than the rest. It is best 
to consider matter, its conformation, and the changes of that 
conformation, its own action, 3 and the law of this action or 
motion ; for forms are a mere fiction of the human mind, unless 
you will call the laws of action by that name.* 

LII. Such are the idols of the tribe, which arise either from 
the uniformity of the constitution of man's spirit, or its preju- 
dices, or its limited faculties or restless agitation, or from the 
interference of the passions, or the incompetency of the senses, 
or the mode of their impressions. 

LIII. The idols of the den derive their origin from the pecu- 
liar nature of each individual's mind and body, and also from 
education, habit, and accident ; and although they be various 
and manifold, yet we will treat of some that require the greatest 
caution, and exert the greatest power in polluting the under- 
standing. 

LIV. Some men become attached to particular sciences and 
contemplations, either from supposing themselves the authors 
and inventors of them, or from having bestowed the greatest 
pains upon such subjects, and thus become most habituated to 
them. u If men of this description apply themselves to philoso- 
phy and contemplations of an universal nature, they wrest and 
corrupt them by their preconceived fancies, of which Aristotle 

mental philosophy, in the prosecution of which he was so ardent as to 
declare that he would prefer the discovery of one of the causes of 
natural phenomena, to the possession of the diadem of Persia. Democri- 
tus imposed on the blind credulity of his contemporaries, and, like Roger 
Bacon, astonished them by his inventions. Ed. 

8 The Latin is actus purus, another scholastic expression to denote 
the action of the substance, which composes the essence of the body 
apart from its accidental qualities. For an exposition of the various 
kind 01 motions he contemplates, the reader may refer to the 48th 
aphorism of the 2nd book. Ed. 

* The scholastics after Aristotle distinguished in a subject three 
modes of beings : viz., the power or faculty, the act, and the habitude, 
or in other words that which is able to exist, what exists actually, and 
what continues to exist. Bacon means that is necessary to fix our 
attention not on that which can or ought to be, but on that which 
actually is ; not on the right, but on the fact. Ed. 

u The inference to be drawn from this is to suspect that kind of evi- 
dence which is most consonant to our inclinations, and not to admit any 
notion as real except we can base it firmly upon that kind of demon- 
stration which is peculiar to the subject, not to our impression. Some- 
times the mode of proof may be consonant to our inclinations, and to 
the subject at the same time, as in the case of Pythagoras, when he 
applied his beloved numbers to the solution of astronomical phenomena ; 
or in that ot Descartes, when he reasoned geometrically concerning the 
nature of the soul. Such examples cannot be censured with justice, 



396 NOVUM OKGANUM. [BOOK I. 

affords us a signal instance, who made hk natural philosophy 
completely subservient to his logic, and thus rendered it little 
more than useless and disputatious. The chemists, again, have 
formed a fanciful philosophy with the most confined views, from 
a few experiments of the furnace. Gilberts too, having em- 
ployed himself most assiduously in the consideration of the 
magnet, immediately established a system of philosophy to coin- 
cide with his favourite pursuit. 

LV. The greatest and, perhaps, radical distinction between 
different men's dispositions for philosophy and the sciences is 
this, that some are more vigorous and active in observing the 
differences of things, others in observing their resemblances ; 
for a steady and acute disposition can fix its thoughts, and dwell 
upon and adhere to a point, through all the refinements of diffe- 
rences, but those that are sublime and discursive recognise and 
compare even the most delicate and general resemblances ; each 
of them readily falls into excess, by catching either at nice dis- 
tinctions or shadows of resemblance. 

LVL Some dispositions evince an unbounded admiration of 
antiquity, others eagerly embrace novelty, and but few can pre- 
serve the just medium, so as neither to tear up what the ancients 
have correctly laid down, nor to despise the just innovations of 
the moderns. But this is very prejudicial to the sciences and 
philosophy, and instead of a correct judgment we have but the 
factions of the ancients and moderns. Truth is not to be sought 
in the good fortune of any particular conjuncture of time, which 
is uncertain, but in the light of nature and experience, which is 
eternal. Such factions, therefore, are to be abjured, and the 
understanding must not allow them to hurry it on to assent. 

inasmuch as the methods pursued were adapted to the end of the 
inquiry. The remark in the text can only apply to those philosophers 
who attempt to build up a moral or theological system by the instru- 
ments of induction alone, or who rush, with the geometrical axiom, and 
the a priori syllogism, to the investigation of nature. The means in 
such cases are totally inadequate to the object in view. Ed. 

x Gilbert lived towards the close of the sixteenth century, and was 
court physician to both Elizabeth and James. In his work alluded to 
in the text he continually asserts the advantages of the experimental 
over the a priori method in physical inquiry, and succeeded when his 
censor failed in giving a practical example of the utility of his pre- 
cepts. His " De Magnete " contains all the fundamental parts of the 
science, and these so perfectly treated, that we have nothing to add to 
them at the present day. 

Gilbert adopted the Copernican system, and even spoke of the con- 
trary theory as utterly absurd, grounding his argument on the vast 
velocities which such a supposition requires us to ascribe to the 
heavenly bodies. Ed. 



BOOK I.] APHORISMS. 397 

LVII. The contemplation of nature and of bodies in their 
individual form distracts and weakens the understanding: but 
the contemplation of nature and of bodies in their general com- 
position and formation stupifies and relaxes it. We have a good 
instance of this in the school of Leucippus and Democritus com- 
pared with others, for they applied themselves so much to parti- 
culars as almost to neglect the general structure of things, whilst 
the others were so astounded whilst gazing on the structure that 
they did not penetrate the simplicity of nature. These two 
species of contemplation must, therefore, be interchanged, and 
each employed in its turn, in order to render the understanding 
at once penetrating and capacious, and to avoid the inconve- 
niences we have mentioned, and the idols that result from them. 

LYIII. Let such, therefore, be our precautions in contempla- 
tion, that we may ward off and expel the idols of the den, which 
mostly owe their birth either to some predominant pursuit, or, 
secondly, to an excess in synthesis and analysis, or, thirdly, to a 
party zeal in favour of certain ages, or, fourthly, to the extent 
or narrowness of the subject. In general, he who contemplates 
nature should suspect whatever particularly takes and fixes his 
understanding, and should use so much the more caution to pre- 
serve it equable and unprejudiced. 

LIX. The idols of the market are the most troublesome of 
all, those namely which have entwined themselves round the un- 
derstanding from the associations of words and names. For men 
imagine that their reason governs words, whilst, in fact, words 
re-act upon the understanding ; and this has rendered philosophy 
and the sciences sophistical and inactive. "Words are generally 
formed in a popular sense, and define things by those broad 
lines which are most obvious to the vulgar mind ; but when a 
more acute understanding, or more diligent observation is 
anxious to vary those lines, and to adapt them more accurately 
to nature, words oppose it. Hence the great and solemn dis- 
putes of learned men often terminate in controversies about 
words and names, in regard to which it would be better (imitating 
the caution of mathematicians) to proceed more advisedly in the 
first instance, and to bring such disputes to a regular issue by 
definitions. Such definitions, however, cannot remedy the evil in 
natural and material objects, because they consist themselves of 
words, and these words produce others ; y so that we must neces- 

y The Latin text adds "without end ;" but Bacon is scarcely right in 
supposing that the descent from complex ideas and propositions to 
those of simple nature, involve the analyst in a series of continuous 
and interminable definitions. For in the gradual and analytical scale, 
there is a bar beyond which we cannot go, as there is a summit bounded 
by the limited variations of our conceptions. Logical definitions, to 
fulfil their conditions, or indeed to be of any avail, must be given in 



398 NOVUM OUGANUM. [BOOK I. 

sarily liave recourse to particular instances, and their regular series 
and arrangement, as we shall mention when we come to the mode 
and scheme of determining notions and axioms. 

IX. The idols imposed upon the understanding by words are 
of two kinds. They are either the names of things which have 
no existence (for as some objects are from inattention left without 
a name, so names are formed by fanciful imaginations which are 
without an object), or they are the names of actual objects, but 
confused, badly defined, and hastily and irregularly abstracted 
from things. Fortune, the jprimum mobile, the planetary orbits,* 
the element of fire, and the like fictions, which owe their birth 
to futile and false theories, are instances of the first kind. And 
this species of idols is removed with greater facility, because it 
■can be exterminated by the constant refutation or the desuetude 
of the theories themselves. The others, which are created by 
vicious and unskilful abstraction, are intricate and deeply rooted. 
Take some word for instance, as moist, and let us examine how 
far the different significations of this word are consistent. It 
will be found that the word moist is nothing but a confused sign 
of different actions admitted of no settled and defined uniformity. 
For it means that which easily diffuses itself over another body; 
that which is indeterminable and cannot be brought to a consis- 
tency; that which yields easily in every direction ; that which 
is easily divided and dispersed ; that which is easily united and 
collected; that which easily flows and is put in motion ; that 
which easily adheres to, and wets another body ; that which is 
easily reduced to a liquid state though previously solid. When, 
therefore, you come to predicate or impose this name, in one 
sense flame is moist, in another air is not moist, in another fine 
powder is moist, in another glass is moist ; so that it is quite 

simpler terms than the object which is sought to be defined ; now this, 
in the case of primordial notions and objects of sense, is impossible ; 
therefore we are obliged to rest satisfied with the mere names of our 
perceptions. Ed. 

z The ancients supposed the planets to describe an exact circle round 
the south. As observations increased and facts were disclosed, which 
were irreconcileable with this supposition, the earth was removed from 
the centre to some other point in the circle, and the planets were sup- 
posed to revolve in a smaller circle (epicycle) round an imaginary point, 
which in its turn described a circle of which the earth was the centre. 
In proportion as observation elicited fresh facts, contradictory to 
these representations, other epicycles and eccentrics were added, involv- 
ing additional confusion. Though Kepler had swept away all these 
complicated theories in the preceding century, by the demonstration of 
his three laws, which established the elliptical course of the planets, 
Bacon regarded him and Copernicus in the same light as Ptolemy and 
Xenophanes. Ed. 



BOOK I.] APHORISMS. 399 

clear that this notion is hastily abstracted from water only, and 
common ordinary liquors, without any due verification of it. 

There are, however, different degrees of distortion and mistake 
in words. One of the least faulty classes is that of the names 
of substances, partic: larly of the less abstract and more defined 
species (those then of chalk and mud are good, of earth bad) ; 
words signifying actions are more faulty, as to generate, to cor- 
rupt, to change ; but the most faulty are those denoting qualities 
(except the immediate objects of sense), as heavy, light, rare, 
dense. Yet in all of these there must be some notions a little 
better than others, in proportion as a greater or less number of 
things come before the senses. 

LXI. The idols of the theatre are not innate, nor do they in- 
troduce themselves secretly into the understanding, but they are 
manifestly instilled and cherished by the fictions of theories and 
depraved rules of demonstration. 'To attempt, however, or un- 
dertake their confutation would not be consistent with our 
declarations. For since we neither agree in our principles nor 
our demonstrations, all argument is out of the question. And it 
is fortunate that the ancients are left in possession of their 
honours. We detract nothing from them, seeing our whole doc- 
trine relates only to the path to be pursued. The lame (as they say) 
in the path outstrip the swift who wander from it, and it is clear 
that the very skill and swiftness of him who runs not in the right 
direction must increase his aberration. 

Our method of discovering the sciences is such as to leave 
little to the acuteness and strength of wit, and indeed rather to 
level wit and intellect. For as in the drawing of a straight hue, 
or accurate circle by the hand, much depends on its steadiness 
and practice, but if a ruler or compass be employed there is 
little occasion for either ; so it is with our method. Although, 
however, we enter into no individual confutations, yet a little 
must be said, first, of the sects and general divisions of these 
species of theories ; secondly, something further to show that 
there are external signs of their weakness ; and, lastly, we must 
consider the causes of so great a misfortune, and so long and 
general a unanimity in error, that we may thus render the access 
to truth less difficult, and that the human understanding may the 
more readily be purified, and brought to dismiss its idols. 

LXIL The idols of the theatre, or of theories, are numerous, 
and may, and perhaps will, be still more so. For unless men's 
minds had been now occupied for many ages in religious and 
theological considerations, and civil governments (especially 
monarchies), had been averse to novelties of that nature even in 
theory (so that men must apply to them with some risk and injury 
to their own fortunes, and not only without reward, but subject 
to contumely and envy), there is no doubt that many other sects 



400 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK L 

of philosophers and theorists would have been introduced, like 
those which formerly flourished in such diversified abundance 
amongst the Greeks. For as many imaginary theories of the 
heavens can be deduced from the phenomena of the sky, so it is 
even more easy to found many dogmas upon the phenomena of 
philosophy — and the plot of this our theatre resembles those of 
the poetical, where the plots which are invented for the stage are 
more consistent, elegant, and pleasurable than those taken from 
real history. 

In general, men take for the groundwork of their philosophy 
either too much from a few topics, or too little from many ; in 
either case their philosophy is founded on too narrow a basis of 
experiment and natural history, and decides on too scanty 
grounds. For the theoretic philosopher seizes various common 
circumstances by experiment, without reducing them to certainty 
or examining and frequently considering them, and relies for the 
rest upon meditation and the activity of his wit. 

There are other philosophers who have diligently and accu- 
rately attended to a few experiments, and have thence presumed 
to deduce and invent systems of philosophy, forming everything 
to conformity with them. 

A third set, from their faith and religious veneration, introduce 
theology and traditions ; the absurdity of some among them 
having proceeded so far as to seek and derive the sciences from 
spirits and genii. There are, therefore, three sources of error 
and three species of false philosophy ; the sophistic, empiric, and 
superstitious. 

LXIXL Aristotle affords the most eminent instance of the 
first; for he corrupted natural philosophy by logic — thus he 
formed the world of categories, assigned to the human soul, the 
noblest of substances, a genus determined by words of secondary 
operation, treated of density and rarity (by which bodies occupy 
a greater or lesser space), by the frigid distinctions of action 
and power, asserted that there was a peculiar and proper motion 
in all bodies, and that if they shared in any other motion, it was 
owing to an external moving cause, and imposed innumerable 
arbitrary distinctions upon the nature of things ; being every- 
where more anxious as to definitions in teaching and the accuracy 
of the wording of his propositions, than the internal truth of 
things. And this is best shown by a comparison of his philo- 
sophy with the others of greatest repute among the Greeks. For 
the similar parts of Anaxagoras, the atoms of Leucippus and 
Democritus, the heaven and earth of Parmenides, the discord 
and concord of Empedocles,* the resolution of bodies into the com- 

a Empedocles, of Agrigentum, flourished 444 B.C. He was the dis- 
ciple of Telanges the Pythagorean, and warmly adopted the doctrine 



BOOK I.] APHORISMS. 401 

mon nature of fire, and their condensation according to Heraclitus, 
exhibit some sprinkling of natural philosophy, the nature of 
things, and experiment ; whilst Aristotle's physics are mere 
logical terms, and he remodelled the same subject in his meta- 
physics under a more imposing title, and more as a realist than 
a nominalist. Nor is much stress to be laid on his frequent re- 
course to experiment in his books on animals, his problems, and 
other treatises ; for he had already decided, without having 
properly consulted experience as the basis of his decisions and 
axioms, and after having so decided, he drags experiment along 
as a captive constrained to accommodate herself to his decisions ; 
so that he is even more to be blamed than his modern followers 
(of the scholastic school) who have deserted her altogether. 

LXIV. The empiric school produces dogmas of a more de- 
formed and monstrous nature than the sophistic or theoretic 
school ; not being founded in the light of common notions 
(which, however poor and superstitious, is yet in a manner 
universal, and of a general tendency), but in the confined 
obscurity of a few experiments. Hence this species of philosophy 
appears probable, and almost certain to those who are daily 
practised in such experiments, and have thus corrupted their 
imagination, but incredible and futile to others. We have a 
strong instance of this in the alchymists and their dogmas ; it 
would be difficult to find another in this age, unless perhaps in 
the philosophy of Gilbert. 5 We could not, however, neglect to 
caution others against this school, because we already foresee and 
augu;, that if men be hereafter induced by our exhortations to 
apply seriously to experiments (bidding farewell to the sophistic 
doctrines), there will then be imminent danger from empirics, 
owing to the premature and forward haste of the understanding, 
and its jumping or flying to generalities and the principles of 
things. We ought, therefore, already to meet the evil. 

LXV. The corruption of philosophy by the mixing of it up 
with superstition and theology, is of a much wider extent, and 
is most injurious to it both as a whole and in parts. For the 
human understanding is no less exposed to the impressions of 

of transmigration. He resolved the universe into the four ordinary 
elements, the principles of whose composition were life and happiness, 
or concord and amity, but whose decomposition brought forth death 
and evil, or discord and hatred. Heraclitus held matter to be indif- 
ferent to any peculiar form, but as it became rarer or more dense, 
it took the appearance of fire, air, earth, and water. Fire, however, 
he believed to be the elementary principle out of which the others were 
evolved. This was also the belief of Lucretius. See book i. 783, &c. 

b It is thus the Vulcanists and Neptunians have framed their oppo- 
site theories in geology. Phrenology is a modern instance of hasty 
generalization. Ed. 

2 2d 



402 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK I. 

fancy, than to those of vulgar notions. The disputatious and 
sophistic school entraps the understanding, whilst the fanciful, 
bombastic, and, as it were, poetical school, rather flatters it. 
There is a clear example of this among the Greeks, especially in 
Pythagoras, where, however, the superstition is coarse and over- 
charged, but it is more dangerous and refined in Plato and his 
school. This evil is found also in some branches of other 
systems of philosophy, where it introduces abstracted forms, 
final and first causes, omitting frequently the intermediate and 
the like. Against it we must use the greatest caution ; for the 
apotheosis of error is the greatest evil of all, and when folly is 
worshipped, it is, as it were, a plague spot upon the understand- 
ing. Yet some of the moderns have indulged this folly with 
such consummate inconsiderateness, that they have endeavoured 
to build a system of natural philosophy on the first chapter of 
Genesis, the book of Job, and other parts of Scripture ; seeking 
thus the dead amongst the living. And this folly is the more to 
be prevented and restrained, because not only fantastical philo- 
sophy, but heretical religion spring from the absurd mixture of 
matters divine and human. It is therefore most wise soberly to 
render unto faith the things that are jfaith's. 

LXVI. Having spoken of the vicious authority of the systems 
founded either on vulgar notions, or on a few experiments, or on 
superstition, we must now consider the faulty subjects for con- 
templation, especially in natural philosophy. The human under- 
standing is perverted by observing the power of mechanical arts, 
in which bodies are very materially changed by composition or 
separation, and is induced to suppose that something similar 
takes place in the universal nature of things.- Hence the fiction 
of elements, and their co-operation in forming natural bodies. d 

c In scripture everything which concerns the passing interests oi the 
body is called dead ; the only living knowledge having regard to the 
eternal interest of the soul. Ed. 

d In mechanics and the general sciences, causes compound their 
effects, or in other words, it is generally possible to deduce a priori 
the consequence of introducing complex agencies into any experi- 
ment, by allowing for the effect of each of the simple causes which 
enter into their composition. In chemistry and physiology a contrary law 
holds ; the causes which they embody generally uniting to form distinct 
substances, and to introduce unforeseen laws and combinations. The 
deductive method here is consequently inapplicable, and we are forced 
back upon experiment. 

Bacon in the text is hardly consistent with himself, as he admits in 
the second book the doctrine, to which modern discovery points, of the 
reciprocal transmutation of the elements. What seemed poetic fiction 
in the theories of Pythagoras and Seneca, assumes the appearance of 
scientific fact in the hands of Baron Caynard. Ed. 



BOOK I.] APHORISMS. 403 

Again, when man reflects upon the entire liberty of nature, he 
meets with particular species of things, as animals, plants, mine- 
rals, and is thence easily led to imagine that there exist in nature 
certain primary forms which she strives to produce, and that all 
variation from them arises from some impediment or error which 
she is exposed to in completing her work, or from the collision 
or metamorphosis of different species. The first hypothesis has 
produced the doctrine of elementary properties, the second that 
of occult properties and specific powers ; and both lead to trifling 
courses of reflection, in which the mind acquiesces, and is thus 
diverted from more important subjects. But physicians exercise 
a much more useful labour in the consideration of the secondary 
qualities of things, and the operations of attraction, repulsion, 
attenuation, inspissation, dilatation, astringency, separation, 
maturation, and the like ; and would do still more if they would 
not corrupt these proper observations by the two systems I have 
alluded to, of elementary qualities and specific powers, by which 
they either reduce the secondary to first qualities, and their 
subtile and immeasurable composition, or at any rate neglect to 
advance by greater and more diligent observation to the third 
and fourth qualities, thus terminating their contemplation pre- 
maturely. JNor are these powers (or the like) to be investigated 
only among the medicines for the human body, but also in all 
changes of other natural bodies. 

A greater evil arises from the contemplation and investigation 
rather of the stationary principles of things from which, than of 
the active by which things themselves are created. For the 
former only serve for discussion, the latter for practice. JNor is 
any value to be set on those common differences of motion 
which are observed in the received system of natural philosophy, 
as generation, corruption, augmentation, diminution, alteration, 
and translation. For this is their meaning: if a body, unchanged 
in other respects, is moved from its place, this is translation ; if 
the place and species be given, but the quantity changed, it is 
alteration ; but, if from such a change, the mass and quantity of 
the body do not continue the same, this is the motion of augmen- 
tation and diminution ; if the change be continued so as to vary 
the species and substance, and transfuse them to others, this is 
generation and corruption. All this is merely popular, and by 
no means penetrates into nature ; and these are but the measures 
and bounds of motion, and not different species of it ; they 
merely suggest how far, and not how or whence. For they ex- 
hibit neither the affections of bodies nor the process of their 
parts, but merely establish a division of that motion, which 
coarsely exhibits to the senses matter in its varied form. Even 
when they wish to point out something relative to the causes of 
motion, and to establish a division of them, they most absurdly 

2d2 



404 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK I. 

introduce natural and violent motion, which is also a popular 
notion, since every violent motion is also in fact natural, that is 
to say, the external efficient puts nature in action in a different 
manner to that which she had previously employed. 

But if, neglecting these, any one were for instance to observe 
that there is in bodies a tendency of adhesion, so as not to suffer 
the unity of nature to be completely separated or broken, and a 
vacuum 9 to be formed, or that they have a tendency to return 
to their natural dimensions or tension, so that, if compressed or 
extended within or beyond it, they immediately strive to recover 
themselves, and resume their former volume and extent ; or that 
they have a tendency to congregate into masses with similar 
bodies, — the dense, for instance, towards the circumference of 
the earth, the thin and rare towards that of the heavens. These 
and the like are true physical genera of motions, but the others 
are clearly logical and scholastic, as appears plainly from a com- 
parison of the two. 

Another considerable evil is, that men in their systems and 
contemplations bestow their labour upon the investigation and 
discussion of the principles of things and the extreme limits of 
nature, although all utility and means of action consist in the 
intermediate objects. Hence men cease not to abstract nature 
till they arrive at potential and shapeless matter,' and still per- 
sist in their dissection, till they arrive at atoms ; and yet were 
all this true, it would be of little use to advance man's estate. 

LXVIL The understanding must also be cautioned against 
the intemperance of systems, so far as regards its giving or with- 
holding its assent ; for such intemperance appears to fix and 
perpetuate idols, so as to leave no means of removing them. 

These excesses are of two kinds. The first is seen in those 
who decide hastily, and render the sciences positive and dicta- 
torial. The other in those who have introduced scepticism, and 
vague unbounded inquiry. The former subdues, the latter 
enervates the understanding. The Aristotelian philosophy, after 

e Galileo had recently adopted the notion that nature abhorred a 
vacuum for an axiomatic principle, and it was not till Torricelli, his dis- 
ciple, had given practical proof of the utility of Bacon's method, by the 
discovery of the barometer (1643), that this error, as also that expressed 
below, and believed by Bacon, concerning the homceopathic tendencies ot 
bodies, was destroyed. Ed. 

f Donee ad materiam potentialem et informem ventum fuerit. Nearly 
all the ancient philosophers admitted the existence of a certain primitive 
and shapeless matter as the substratum of things which the creative 
power had reduced to fixed proportions, and resolved into specific sub- 
stances. The expression potential matter refers to that substance form- 
ing the basis of the Peripatetic system, which virtually contained all the 
forms that it was in the power of the efficient cause to draw out of it. Ed. 



BOOK I.] APHORISMS. 405 

destroying other systems (as the Ottomans do their brethren) 
by its disputatious confutations, decided upon everything, and 
Aristotle himself then raises up questions at will, in order to 
settle them ; so that everything should be certain and decided, a 
method now in use among his successors. 

The school of Plato introduced scepticism, first, as it were in 
joke and irony, from their dislike to Protagoras, Hippias, h and 
others, who were . ashamed of appearing not to doubt upon any 
subject. But the new academy dogmatised in their scepticism, 
and held it as their tenet. Although this method be more honest 
than arbitrary decision (for its followers allege that they by no 
means confound all inquiry, like Pyrrho and his disciples, but 
hold doctrines which they can follow as probable, though they 
cannot maintain them to be true), yet when the human mind 
has once despaired of discovering truth, everything begins to 
languish. Hence men turn aside into pleasant controversies and 
discussions, and into a sort of wandering over subjects rather 
than sustain any rigorous investigation. But as we observed at 
first, we are not to deny the authority of the human senses and 
understanding, although weak, but rather to furnish them with 
assistance. 

LXVIII. "We have now treated of each kind of idols, and 
their qualities, all of which must be abjured and renounced with 
firm and solemn resolution, and the understanding must be 
completely freed and cleared of them, so that the access to the 
kingdom of man, which is founded on the sciences, may resemblo 
that to the kingdom of heaven, where no admission is conceded 
except to children. 

LXIX. Vicious demonstrations are the muniments and sup- 
port of idols, and those which we possess in logic, merely subject 

& An allusion to the humanity of the Sultans, who, in their earlier 
histories are represented as signalizing their accession to the throne by 
the destruction of their family, to remove the danger of rivalry and the 
terrors of civil war. Ed. 

h The text is "in odium veterum sophistarum, Protagorse, Hippiae, et 
reliquorum." Those were called sophists, who, ostentationis aut queatus 
causa jrfiilosopJiabantur. (Acad. Prior, ii. 22.) They had corrupted and 
degraded philosophy before Socrates. Protagoras of Abdera fA&cbjpa), 
the most celebrated, taught that man is the measure of all things, by 
which he meant not only that all which can be known is known only as 
it related to our faculties, but also that apart from our faculties nothing 
can be known. The sceptics equally held that knowledge was probable 
only as it related to our faculties, but they stopped there, and did not, 
like the sophist, dogmatize about the unknown. The works of 
Protagoras were condemned for their impiety, and publicly burnt by the 
asdiles of Athens, who appear to have discharged the office of common 
hangmen to the literary blasphemers of their day. Ed. 



406 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK I. 

and enslave the world to human thoughts, and thoughts to 
words. But demonstrations are in some manner themselves 
systems of philosophy and science ; for such as they are, and 
accordingly as they are regularly or improperly established, such 
will be the resulting systems of philosophy and contemplation. 
But those which we employ in the whole process leading from 
the senses and things to axioms and conclusions, are fallacious 
and incompetent. This process is fourfold, and the errors are in 
equal number. In the first place the impressions of the senses 
are erroneous, for they fail and deceive us. We must supply 
defects by substitutions, and fallacies by their correction. Se- 
condly, notions are improperly abstracted from the senses, and 
indeterminate and confused when they ought to be the reverse. 
Thirdly, the induction that is employed is improper, for it deter- 
mines the principles of sciences by simple enumeration, 1 without 
adopting exclusions and resolutions, or just separations of nature. 
Lastly, The usual method of discovery and proof, by first esta- 
blishing the most general propositions, then applying and proving 
the intermediate axioms according to them, is the parent of error 
and the calamity of every science. But we will treat more fully 
of that which we now slightly touch upon, when we come to lay 
down the true way of interpreting nature, after having gone 
through the above expiatory process and purification of the 
mind. 

LXX. But experience is by far the best demonstration, pro- 
vided it adhere to the experiment actually made, for if that 
experiment be transferred to other subjects apparently similar, 
unless with proper and methodical caution it becomes fallacious. 
The x^resent method of experiment is blind and stupid ; hence 

1 Bacon is hardly correct in implying that the enumerationein per 
simplicem was the only light in which the ancients looked upon induc- 
tion, as they appear to have regarded it as only one, and that the least 
important, of its species. Aristotle expressly considers induction in a 
perfect or dialectic sense, and in an imperfect or rhetorical sense. Thus 
if a genus (g), contains four species (a, b, C, d), the syllogism would lead 
us to infer, that what is true of G, is true of any of the one four. But perfect 
induction would reason, that what we can prove of A, B, c, D, separately, 
we may properly state as true of G, the whole genus. This is evidently a 
formal argument as demonstrative as the syllogism. In necessary matters, 
however, legitimate induction may claim a wider province, and infer of 
the whole genus what is only apparent in a part of the species. Such 
are those inductive inferences which concern the laws of nature, the 
immutability of forms, by which Bacon strove to erect his new system 
of philosophy. The Stagyrite, however, looked upon enumcrationem per 
simplicem, without any regard to the nature of the matter, or to the com- 
pleteness of the species, with as much reprehensive caution as Bacon, 
and guarded his readers against it as the source of innumerable errors, 

Ed. 



BOOK I.] APHORISMS. 407 

men wandering and roaming without any determined course, and 
consulting mere chance, are hurried about to various points, and 
advance but little, — at one time they are happy, at another their 
attention is distracted, and they always rind that they wont 
something further. Men generally make their experiments care- 
lessly, and as it were in sport, making some little variation in a 
known experiment, and then if they fail they become disgusted 
and give up the attempt ; nay, it they set to work more seriously, 
steadily, and assiduously, yet they waste all their time on 
probing some solitary m atter, as Gilbert on the magnet, and the 
alchemists on gold. But such conduct shows their method to be 
no less unskilful than mean ; for nobody can successfully inves- 
tigate the nature of any object by considering that object alone ; 
the inquiry must be more generally extended. 

Even when men build any science and theory upon experi- 
ment, yet they almost always turn with premature and hasty 
zeal to practise, not merely on account of the advantage and 
benefit to be derived from it, but in order to seize upon some 
security in a new undertaking of their not employing the re- 
mainder of their labour unprofitable, and by making themselves 
conspicuous, to acquire a greater name for their pursuit. Hence, 
like Atalanta, they leave the course to pick up the golden apple, 
interrupting their speed, and giving up the victory. But in the 
true course of experiment, and in extending it to new effects, we 
should imitate the Divine foresight and order ; for God on the 
first day only created light, and assigned a whole day to that 
work without creating any material substance thereon. In like 
manner we must first, by every kind of experiment, elicit the 
discovery of causes and true axioms, and seek for experiments 
which may afford light rather than profit. Axioms, when rightly 
investigated and established, prepare us not for a limited but 
abundant practice, and bring in their train whole troops of 
effects. But we will treat hereafter of the ways of experience, 
which are not less beset and interrupted than those of judgment; 
having spoken at present of common experience only as a bad 
species of demonstration, the order of our subject now requires 
some mention of those external signs of the weakness in practice 
of the received systems of philosophy and contemplation k which 
we referred to above, and of the causes of a circumstance at first 
sight so wonderful and incredible. For the knowledge of these 
external signs prepares the way for assent, and the explanation 
of the causes removes the wonder ; and these two circumstances 
are of material use in extirpating more easily and gently the 
idols from the understanding. 

LXXI. The sciences we possess have been principally derived 

k See Ax. lxi. towards the end. This subject extends to Ax. lxxviii. 



408 NOVUM ORGANU3I. [BOOK I. 

from the Greeks ; for the addition of the Roman, Arabic, or more 
modern writers, are but few and of small importance, and such 
as they are, are founded, on the basis of Greek invention. But 
the wisdom of the Greeks was professional and disputatious, aud 
thus most adverse to the investigation of truth. The name, 
therefore, of sophists, which the contemptuous spirit of those 
who deemed themselves philosophers, rejected and transferred 
to the rhetoricians, — Gorgias, 1 Protagoras, Hippias, Polus, — 
might well suit the whole tribe, such as Plato, Aristotle, Zeno, 
Epicurus, Theophrastus, and their successors, — Chrysippus, Car- 
neades, and the rest. There was only this difference between 
them, — the former were mercenary vagabonds, travelling about 
to different states, making a show of their wisdom, and requiring 
pay; the latter more dignified and noble, in possession of fixed 
habitations, opening schools, and teaching philosophy gratui- 
tously. Both, however (though differing in other respects), were 
professorial, and reduced every subject to controversy, establish- 
ing and defending certain sects and dogmas of philosophy, so 
that their doctrines were nearly (what Dionysius not unaptly 
objected to Plato) the talk of idle old men to ignorant youths. 
But the more ancient Greeks, as Empedocles, Anaxagoras, 
Leucippus, Democritus, Parmenides, Heraclitus, Xenophanes, 
Philolaus, and the rest 111 (for I omit Pythagoras as being super- 

1 Gorgias of Leontium went to Athens in 424 B.C. He and Polus 
were disciples of Empedocles, whom we have already noticed (Apho- 
rism 63), where he sustained the three famous propositions, that nothing 
exists, that nothing can be known, and that it is out of the power of man 
to transmit or communicate intelligence. He is reckoned one of the 
earliest writers on the art of rhetoric, and for that reason, Plato called 
his elegant dialogue on that subject after his name. 

m Chrysippus, a stoic philosopher of Soli in Cilicia, Campestris, born 
m 280, died in the 143rd Olympiad, 208 B. C. He was equally distin- 
guished for natural abilities and industry, seldom suffering a day to 
elapse without writing 500 lines. He wrote several hundred volumes, 
of which three hundred were on logical subjects ; but in all, borrowed 
largely from others. He was very fond of the sorites in argument, 
which is hence called by Persius the heap of Chrysippus. He was called 
the Column of the Portico, a name given to the Stoical School from 
Zeno its founder, who had given his lessons under the portico. Ed. 

Carneades, born about 215, died in 130. He attached himself to 
Chrysippus, and sustained with eclat the scepticism of the academy. 
The Athenians sent him with Critolaus and Diogenes as ambassador to 
Pome, where he attracted the attention of his new auditory by the sub- 
tilty of his reasoning, and the fluency and vehemence of his language. 
Before Galba and Cato the Censor, he harangued with great variety of 
thought and copiousness of diction in praise of justice. The next day, 
to establish his doctrine of the uncertainty of human knowledge, he 
undertook to refute all his arguments. He maintained with the New 



BOOK I.] APHORISMS. 409 

stitions), did not (that we are aware) open schools, but betook 
themselves to the investigation of truth with greater silence and 
with more severity and simplicity, that is, with less affectation 
and ostentation. Hence in our opinion they acted more ad- 
visedly, however their works may have been eclipsed in course 
of time by those lighter productions which better correspond 
with and please the apprehensions and passions of the vulgar ; 
for time, like a river, n bears down to us that which is light and 
inflated, and sinks that which is heavy and solid. Nor were 
even these more ancient philosophers free from the national 
defect, but inclined too much to the ambition and vanity of 
forming a sect, and captivating public opinion, and we must 
despair of any inquiry after truth when it condescends to such 
trifles. Ts'or must we omit the opinion, or rather prophecy, of 
an Egyptian priest with regard to the Greeks, that they would 
for ever remain children, without any antiquity of knowledge or 
knowledge of antiquity; for they certainly have this in common 
with children, that they are prone to talking, and incapable of 
generation, their wisdom being loquacious and unproductive of 

Academy, that the senses, the imagination, and the understanding fre- 
quently deceive us, and therefore cannot be infallible judges of truth, 
but that from the impressions produced on the mind by means of the 
senses, we infer appearances of truth or probabilities. Nevertheless, 
with respect to the conduct of life, Carneades held that probable opinions 
are a sufficient guide. 

Xenophanes, a Greek philosopher, of Colophon, born in 556, the 
founder of the Eleatic school, which owes its fame principally to Parme- 
nides. Wild in his opinions about astronomy, he supposed that the 
stars were extinguished every morning, and rekindled at night ; that 
eclipses were occasioned by the temporary extinction of the sun, and 
that there were several suns for the convenience of the different 
climates of the earth. Yet this man held the chair of philosophy at 
Athens for seventy years. 

Philolaus, a Pythagorian philosopher of Crotona, B.C. 374. He 
first supported the diurnal motion of the earth round its axis, and its 
annual motion round the sun. Cicero (Acad. iv. 39), has ascribed this 
opinion to the Syracusan philosopher Nicetas, and likewise to Plato. 
From this passage, it is most probable that Copernicus got the idea of 
the system he afterwards established. Bacon, in the Advancement of 
Human Learning, charges Gilbert with restoring the doctrines of Philo- 
laus, because he ventured to support the Copernican theory. Ed* 

n Bacon is equally conspicuous for the use and abuse of analogical 
illustrations. The levity, a =5 Stuart Mill very properly observes, by 
which substances float on a stream, and the levity which is synonymous 
with worthlessness, have nothing beside the name in common ; and to 
show how little value there is in the figure, we need only change the 
word into buoyancy, to turn the semblance of Bacon's argument against 
himself. Ed. 



410 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK I. 

effects. Hence the external signs derived from the origin and 
birthplace of our present philosophy are not favourable. 

LXXII. Nor are those much better which can be deduced 
from the character of the time and age, than the former from 
that of the country and nation ; for in that age the knowledge 
both of time and of the world was confined and meagre, which 
is one of the worst evils for those who rely entirely on expe- 
rience, — they had not a thousand years of history worthy of 
that name, but mere fables and ancient traditions ; they were 
acquainted with but a small portion of the regions and countries 
of the world, for they indiscriminately called all nations situated 
far towards the north Scythians, all those to the west Celts; 
they knew nothing of Africa but the nearest part of Ethiopia, or 
of Asia beyond the Ganges, and had not even heard any sure 
and clear tradition of the regions of the New World. Besides, a 
vast number of climates and zones, in which innumerable nations 
live and breathe, were pronounced by them to be uninhabitable ; 
nay, the travels of Democritus, Plato, and Pythagoras, which 
were not extensive, but rather mere excursions from home, were 
considered as something vast;. But in our times many parts of 
the New World, and every extremity of the Old are well known, 
and the mass of experiments has been infinitely increased ; where- 
fore, if external signs were to be taken from the time of the 
nativity or procreation (as in astrology), nothing extraordinary 
could be predicted of these early systems of philosophy. 

LXXIII. Of all signs there is none more certain or worthy 
than that of the fruits produced, for the fruits and effects are 
the sureties and vouchers, as it were, for the truth of philosophy. 
Now, from the systems of the Greeks and their subordinate 
divisions in particular branches of the sciences during so long a 
period, scarcely one single experiment can be culled that has a 
tendency to elevate or assist mankind, and can be fairly set 
down to the speculations and doctrines of their philosophy. 
Celsus candidly and wisely confesses as much, when he observes 
that experiments were first discovered in medicine, and that 
men afterwards built their philosophical systems upon them, and 
searched for and assigned causes, instead of the inverse method 
of discovering and deriving experiments from philosophy and 
the knowledge of causes ; it is not, therefore, wonderful that the 
Egyptians (who bestowed divinity and sacred honours on the 
authors of new inventions) should have consecrated more images 
of brutes than of men, for the brutes by their natural instinct 
made many discoveries, whilst men derived but few from discus- 
sion and the conclusions of reason. 

The industry of the alchemists has produced some effect, by 
chance, however, and casualty, or from varying their experi- 
ments (as mechanics also do), and not from any regular art or 



BOOK 1.] APHOHISHS. 411 

theory, the theory they have imagined rather tending to disturb 
than to assist experiment. Those, too, who have occupied them- 
selves with natural magic (as they term it) have made but few 
discoveries, and those of small import, and bordering on impos- 
ture ; for which reason, in the same manner as we are cautioned 
by religion to show our faith by our works, we may very pro- 
perly apply the principle to philosophy, and judge of it by its 
works, accounting that to be futile which is unproductive, and 
still more so if, instead of grapes and olives, it yield but the 
thistle and thorns of dispute and contention. 

LXXIV. Other signs may be selected from the increase and 
progress of particular systems of philosophy and the sciences ; 
for those which are founded on nature grow and increase, whilst 
those which are founded on opinion change and increase not. If, 
therefore, the theories we have mentioned were not like plants, 
torn up by the roots, but grew in the womb of nature, and were 
nourished by her, that which for the last two thousand years 
has taken place would never have happened, namely, that the 
sciences still continue in their beaten track, and nearly sta- 
tionary, without having received any important increase, nay, 
having on the contrary rather bloomed under the hands of their 
first author, and then faded away. But we see that the case is 
reversed in the mechanical arts, which are founded on nature 
and the light of experience, for they (as long as they are popular) 
seem full of life, and uninterruptedly thrive and grow, being at 
first rude, then convenient, lastly polished, and perpetually im- 
proved. 

LXXV. There is yet another sign (if such it may be termed, 
being rather an evidence, and one of the strongest nature), 
namely, the actual confession of those very authorities whom 
men now follow; for even they who decide on things so daringly, 
yet at times, when they reflect, betake themselves to complaints 
about the subtilty of nature, the obscurity of things, and the 
weakness of man's wit. If they would merely do this, they 
might perhaps deter those who are of a timid disposition from 
further inquiry, but would excite and stimulate those of a more 
active and confident turn to further advances. They are not, 
however, satisfied with confessing so much of themselves, but 
consider everything which has been either unknown or unat- 
tempted by themselves or their teachers, as beyond the limits of 
possibility, and thus, with most consummate pride and envy, 
convert the defects of their own discoveries into a calumny on 
nature and a source of despair to every one else. Hence arose 
the New Academy, which openly professed scepticism, and con- 

° We have before observed, that the New Academy did not profess 
scepticism, but the aKarciXij-d/ia, or incomprehensibility of the absolute 



412 NOVUM ORGAKUM. [BOOK I. 

signed raanldnd to eternal darkness; hence the notion that 
forms, or the true differences of things (which are in fact the 
laws of simple action), are beyond man's reach, and cannot pos- 
sibly be discovered ; hence those notions in the active and ope- 
rative branches, that the heat of the sun and of fire are totally 
d liferent, so as to prevent men from supposing that they can 
elicit or form, by means of fire, anything similar to the opera- 
tions of nature ; and again, that composition only is the work of 
man and mixture of nature, so as to prevent men from expecting 
the generation or transformation of natural bodies by art. Men 
will, therefore, easily allow themselves to be persuaded by this 
sign not to engage their fortunes and labour in speculations, 
which are not only desperate, but actually devoted to despe- 
ration. 

LXXVL Nor should we omit the sign afforded by the great 
dissension formerly prevalent among philosophers, and the 
variety of schools, which sufficiently show that the way was not 
well prepared that leads from the senses to the understanding, 
since the same ground-work of philosophy (namely, the nature 
of things), was torn and divided into such widely differing and 
multifarious errors. And although in these days the dissensions 
and differences of opinions with regard to first principles and 
entire systems are nearly extinct, p yet there remain innumerable 
questions and controversies with regard to particular branches of 
philosophy. So that it is manifest that there is nothing sure or 
sound either in the systems themselves or in the methods of 
demonstration.* 1 

LXXVII. With regard to the supposition that there is a 
general unanimity as to the philosophy of Aristotle, because the 
other systems of the ancients ceased and became obsolete on its 
promulgation, and nothing better has been since discovered ; 
whence it appears that it is so well determined and founded, as 
to have united the suffrages of both ages ; we will observe — 
1st. That the notion of other ancient systems having ceased after 
the publication of the works of Aristotle is false, for the works 

essences of things. Even modern physicists are not wanting, to assert 
with this school that the utmost knowledge we can obtain is relative, 
and necessarily short of absolute certainty. It is not without an ap- 
pearance of truth that these philosophers maintain that our ideas and 
perceptions do not express the nature of the things which they repre- 
sent, but only the effects of the peculiar organs by which they are con- 
veyed to the understanding, so that were these organs changed, we 
should have different conceptions of their nature. That constitution 
of air which is dark to man is luminous to bats and owls. 

p Owing to the universal prevalence of Aristotelism. 

i It must be remembered, that when Bacon wrote, algebra was in ita 
infancy, and the doctrine of units and infinitesimals undiscovered. 



BOOK I.] APHORISMS. 41 



o 



of the ancient philosophers subsisted long after that event, even 
to the time of Cicero, and the subsequent ages. But at a later 
period, when human learning had, as it were, been wrecked in 
the inundation of barbarians into the Roman empire, then th<* 
systems of Aristotle and Plato were preserved in the waves o.. 
ages, like planks of a lighter and less solid nature. 2 ad. The 
notion of unanimity, on a clear inspection, is found to be 
fallacious. For true unanimity is that which proceeds from 
a free judgment, arriving at the same conclusion, after an in- 
vestigation of the fact. Now, by far the greater number of 
those who have assented to the philosophy of Aristotle, have 
bound themselves down to it from prejudice and the authority of 
others, so that it is rather obsequiousness and concurrence than 
unanimity. But even if it were real and extensive unanimity, 
so far from being esteemed a true and solid confirmation, it should 
even lead to a violent presumption to the contrary. For there 
is no worse augury in intellectual matters than that derived from 
unanimity, with the exception of divinity and politics, where 
suffrages are allowed to decide. For nothing pleases the multi- 
tude, unless it strike the imagination or bind down the under- 
standing, as we have observed above, with the shackles of vulgar 
notions. Hence we may well transfer Phocion's remark from 
morals to the intellect ; " That men should immediately examine 
what error or fault they have committed, when the multitude 
concurs with, and applauds them."' This then is one of the 
most unfavourable signs. All the signs, therefore, of the truth 
and soundness of the received systems of philosophy and the 
sciences are unpropitious, whether taken from their origin, their 
fruits, their progress, the confessions of their authors, or from 
unanimity. 

LXXVIII. We now come to the causes of errors, 8 and of such 
perseverance in them for ages. These are sufficiently numerous 
and powerful to remove all wonder, that what we now offer 
should have so long been concealed from, and have escaped the 
notice of mankind, and to render it more worthy of astonishment, 
that it should even now have entered any one's mind, or become 
the subject of his thoughts ; and that it should have done so, 
we consider rather the gift of fortune than of any extraordinary 
talent, and as the offspring of time rather than wit. But, in the 
first place, the number of ages is reduced to very narrow limits, 
on a proper consideration of the matter. For out of twenty-five * 

r Because the vulgar make up the overwhelming majority in such 
decisions, and generally allow their judgments to be swayed by passion 
or prejudice. 

8 See end of Axiom lxi. The subject extends to Axiom xc. 

1 If we adopt the statement of Herodotus, who places the Homeric 



414 



NOVUM ORGANUM. 



[book 



centuries, with which the memory and learning of man are 
conversant, scarcely six can be set apart and selected as fertile 
in science and favourable to its progress. For there are deserts 
and wastes in times as in countries, and we can only reckon up 
three revolutions and epochs of philosophy. 1. The Greek. 
2. The Homan. 3. Our own, that is the philosophy of the 
western nations of Europe : and scarcely two centuries can with 
justice be assigned to each. The intermediate ages of the world 
were unfortunate both in the quantity and richness of the 
sciences produced. Nor need we mention the Arabs, or the 
scholastic philosophy, which, in those ages, ground down the 
sciences by their numerous treatises, more than they increased 
their weight. The first cause, then, of such insignificant pro- 
gress in the sciences, is rightly referred to the small proportion 
of time which has been favourable thereto. 

LXXIX. A second cause offers itself, which is certainly of 
the greatest importance ; namely, that in those very ages in 
which men's wit and literature flourished considerably, or even 
moderately, but a small part of their industry was bestowed on 
natural philosophy, the great mother of the sciences. For 
every art and science, torn from this root may, perhaps, be 
polished, and put into a serviceable shape, but can admit of 
little growth. It is well known, that after the Christian religion 
had been acknowledged, and arrived at maturity, by far the best 
wits were busied upon theology, where the highest rewards 
offered themselves, and every species of assistance was abun- 
dantly supplied, and the study of which was the principal 
occupation of the western European nations during the third 
epoch ; the rather because literature flourished about the very 
time when controversies concerning religion first began to bud 
forth. 2. In the preceding ages, during the second epoch (that 
of the Romans), philosophical meditation and labour was chiefly 

era 400 years back from his time, Homer lived about 900 years before 
Christ. On adding this number to the sixteen centuries of the Chris- 
tian era which had elapsed up to Bacon's time, we get the twenty-five 
centuries he mentions. The Homeric epoch is the furthest point in 
antiquity from which Bacon could reckon with any degree of certainty. 
Hesiod, if he were not contemporary, immediately preceded him. 

The epoch of Greek philosophy may be included between Thales 
and Plato, that is, from the 35th to the 88th Olympiad ; that of the 
Homan, between Terence and Pliny. The modern revolution, in which 
Bacon is one of the central figures, took its rise from the time of Dante 
and Petrarch, who lived at the commencement of the fourteenth cen- 
tury ; and to which, on account of the invention of printing, and the 
universal spread of literature, which has rendered a second destruction 
of learning impossible, it is difficult to foresee any other end than the 
extinction of the race of man. Ed. 



BOOK I.] APHORISMS. 415 

occupied and wasted in moral philosophy (the theology of the 
heathens) : besides, the greatest minds in these times applied 
themselves to civil affairs, on account of the magnitude of the 
Homan empire, which required the labour of many. 3. The age 
during which natural philosophy appeared principally to flourish 
among the Greeks, was but a short period, since in the more 
ancient times the seven sages (with the exception of Thales), 
applied themselves to moral philosophy and politics, and at a 
later period, after Socrates had brought down philosophy from 
heaven to earth, moral philosophy became more prevalent, and 
diverted men's attention from natural. Nay, the very period 
during which physical inquiries flourished, was corrupted and 
rendered useless by contradictions, and the ambition of new 
opinions. Since, therefore, during these three epochs, natural 
philosophy has been materially neglected or impeded, it is not at 
all surprising that men should have made but little progress in 
it, seeing they were attending to an entirely different matter. 

LXXX. Add to this that natural philosophy, especially of 
late, has seldom gained exclusive possession of an individual free 
from all other pursuits, even amongst those who have applied 
themselves to it, unless there may be an example or two of some 
monk studying in his cell, or some nobleman in his villa. u She 
has rather been made a passage and bridge to other pursuits. 

Thus has this great mother of the sciences been degraded most 
unworthily to the situation of an handmaid, and made to wait 
upon medicine or mathematical operations, and to wash the 
immature minds of youth, and imbue them with a first dye, that 
they may afterwards be more ready to receive and retain another. 
In the mean time, let no one expect any great progress in the 
sciences (especially their operative part), unless natural philo- 
sophy be applied to particular sciences, and particular sciences 
again referred back to natural philosophy. For want of this, 
astronomy, optics, music, many mechanical arts, medicine itself, 
and (what perhaps is more wonderful), moral and political philo- 
sophy, and the logical sciences have no depth, but only glide 
over the surface and variety of things ; because these sciences, 
when they have been once partitioned out and established, are 
no longer nourished by natural philosophy, which would have 
imparted fresh vigour and growth to them from the sources and 
genuine contemplation of motion, rays, sounds, texture, and 
conformation of bodies, and the affections and capacity of the 
understanding. But we can little wonder that the sciences grow 
not when separated from their roots. 

LXXXI. There is another powerful and great cause of the 
little advancement of the sciences, which is this ; it is impossible 

u The allusion is evidently to Eoger Bacon and Re'ne Descartes. Ed. 



416 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK t 

to advance properly in the course when the goal is not properly 
fixed. But the real and legitimate goal of the sciences, is the 
endowment of human life with new inventions and riches. The 
great crowd of teachers know nothing of this, but consist of 
dictatorial hirelings ; unless it so happen that some artisan of an 
acute genius, and ambitious of fame, gives up his time to a new 
discovery, which is generally attended with a loss of property. 
The majority, so far from proposing to themselves the augmenta- 
tion of the mass of arts and sciences, make no other use of an 
inquiry into the mass already before them, than is afforded by 
the conversion of it to some use in their lectures, or to gain, or 
to the acquirement of a name, and the like. But if one out of 
the multitude be found, who courts science from real zeal, and 
on his own account, even he will be seen rather to follow con- 
templation, and the variety of theories, than a severe and strict 
investigation of truth. Again, if there even be an unusually 
strict investigator of truth, yet will he propose to himself, as the 
test of truth, the satisfaction of his mind and understanding, as 
to the causes of things long since known, and not such a test as 
to lead to some new earnest of effects, and a new light in 
axioms. If, therefore, no one have laid down the real end of 
science, we cannot wonder that there should be error in point3 
subordinate to that end. 

LXXXII. But, in like manner, as the end and goal of science 
is ill defined, so, even were the case otherwise, men have chosen 
an erroneous and impassable direction. For it is sufficient to 
astonish any reflecting mind, that nobody should have cared 
or wished to open and complete a way for the understanding, set- 
ting off from the senses, and regular, well conducted experiment; 
but that everything has been abandoned either to the mists of 
tradition, the whirl and confusion of argument, or the waves and 
mazes of chance, and desultory, ill combined experiment. Now, 
let any one but consider soberly and diligently the nature of the 
path men have been accustomed to pursue in the investigation 
and discovery of any matter, and he will doubtless first observe 
the rude and inartificial manner of discovery most familiar to 
mankind : which is no other than this. When any one prepares 
himself for discovery, he first inquires and obtains a full account 
of all that has been said on the subject by others, then adds his 
own reflections, and stirs up and, as it were, invokes his own 
spirit, after much mental labour, to disclose its oracles. All 
which is a method without foundation, and merely turns on 
opinion. 

Another, perhaps, calls in logic to assist him in discovery, 
which bears only a nominal relation to his purpose. For the 
discoveries of logic are not discoveries of principles and leading 



BOOK I.] APHOPJSMS. 417 

axioms, but only of what appears to accord with them.* And 
when men become curious and importunate, and give trouble, 
interrupting her about her proofs, and the discovery of principles 
or first axioms, she puts them off with her usual answer, re- 
ferring them to faith, and ordering them to swear allegiance to 
each art in its own department. 

There remains but mere experience, which, when it offers 
itself, is called chance; when it is sought after, experiment/ 
But this kind of experience is nothing but a loose faggot; and 
mere groping in the dark, as men at night try all means of dis- 
covering the right road, whilst it would be better and more 
prudent either to wait for day, or procure a light, and then 
proceed. On the contrary, the real order of experience begins 
by setting up a light, and then shows the road by it, commencing 
with a regulated and digested, not a misplaced and vague course 
of experiment, and thence deducing axioms, and from those 
axioms new experiments : for not even the divine vrord pro- 
ceeded to operate on the general mass of things without due 
order. 

Let men, therefore, cease to wonder if the whole course of 
science be not run, when all have wandered from the path ; 
quitting it entirely, and deserting experience, or involving them- 
selves in its mazes, and wandering about, whilst a regularly 
combined system would lead them in a sure track through its 
wilds to the open day of axioms. 

LXXXIII. The evil, however, has been wonderfully increased 
by an opinion, or inveterate conceit, which is both vainglorious 
and prejudicial, namely, that the dignity of the human mind is 
lowered by long and frequent intercourse with experiments 
and particulars, which are the objects of sense, and confined to 
matter ; especially since such matters generally require labour 
in investigation, are mean subjects for meditation, harsh in 
discourse, unproductive in practice, infinite in number, and 
delicate in their subtilty. Hence we have seen the true path 
not only deserted, but intercepted and blocked up, experience 
being rejected with disgust, and not merely neglected or im- 
properly applied. 

LXXXIV. Again, the reverence for antiquity, 2 and the 
authority of men who have been esteemed great in philosophy, 
and general unanimity, have retarded men from advancing in 
science, and almost enchanted them. As to unanimity, we 
have spoken of it above. 

The opinion which men cherish of antiquity is altogether idle, 

x From the abuse of the scholastics, who mistook the a priori 
method, the deductive syllogism for the entire province of logic. Ed. 

y See Aphorism xcv. 

* The incongruity to which Bacon alludes appears to spring from 
2 2E 



418 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK I. 

and scarcely accords with the term. For the old age and in- 
creasing years of the world should in reality be considered as 
antiquity, and this is rather the character of our own times than 
of the less advanced age of the world in those of the ancients ; 
for the latter, with respect to ourselves, are ancient and elder, 
with respect to the world modern and younger. And as we 
expect a greater knowledge of human affairs, and more mature 
judgment from an old man than from a youth, on account of his 
experience, and the variety and number of things he has seen, 
heard, and meditated upon, so we have reason to expect much 
greater things of our own age (if it knew but its strength and 
would essay and exert it) than from antiquity, since the world 
has grown older, and its stock has been increased and accumu- 
lated with an infinite number of experiments and observations. 

We must also take into our consideration that many objects in 
nature fit to throw light upon philosophy have been exposed to 
our view, and discovered by means of long voyages and travels, 
in which our times have abounded. It would, indeed, be dis- 
honourable to mankind, if the regions of the material globe, the 
earth, the sea, and stars, should be so prodigiously developed and 
illustrated in our age, and yet the boundaries of the intellectual 
globe should be confined to the narrow discoveries of the 
ancients. 

With regard to authority, it is the greatest weakness to attri- 
bute infinite credit to particular authors, and to refuse his own 
prerogative to time, the author of all authors, and, therefore, of 
all authority. For truth is rightly named the daughter of time, 
not of authority. It is not wonderful, therefore, if the bonds of 
antiquity, authority, and unanimity, have so enchained the power 
of man, that he is unable (as if bewitched) to become familiar 
with things themselves. 

LXXXV. Nor is it only the admiration of antiquity, authority, 
and unanimity, that has forced man's industry to rest satisfied 
with present discoveries, but, also, the admiration of the effects 
already placed within his power. For whoever passes in review 
the variety of subjects, and the beautiful apparatus collected and 
introduced by the mechanical arts for the service of mankind, 
will certainly be rather inclined to admire our wealth than to 
perceive our poverty : not considering that the observations of 
man and operations of nature (which are the souls and first 
movers of that variety) are few, and not of deep research ; the 
rest must be attributed merely to man's patience, and the deli- 
confounding two things, which are not only distinct, but affect human 
knowledge in inverse proportion, viz., the experience which terminates 
with life, with that experience which one century transmits to another. 
Ed. 



BOOK I.] APHORISMS. 419 

cate and well regulated motion of the hand or of instruments. 
To take an instance, the manufacture of clocks is delicate and 
accurate, and appears to imitate the heavenly bodies in its wheels, 
and the pulse of animals in its regular oscillation, yet it only 
depends upon one or two axioms of nature. 

Again, if one consider the refinement of the liberal arts, or 
even that exhibited in the preparation of natural bodies in me- 
chanical arts and the like, as the discovery of the heavenly 
motions in astronomy, of harmony in music, of the letters of the 
alphabet 8 (still unadopted by the Chinese) in grammar; or, 
again, in mechanical operations, the productions of Bacchus and 
Ceres, that is, the preparation of wine and beer, the making of 
bread, or even the luxuries of the table, distillation, and the like; 
if one reflect also, and consider for how long a period of ages (for 
all the above, except distillation, are ancient) these things have 
been brought to their present state of perfection, and (as we 
instanced in clocks) to how few observations and axioms of nature 
they may be referred, and how easily, and as it were, by obvious 
chance or contemplation, they might be discovered, one would 
soon cease to admire and rather pity the human lot on account 
of its vast want and dearth of things and discoveries for so many 
ages. Yet even the discoveries we have mentioned were more 
ancient than philosophy and the intellectual arts ; so that, (to 
say the truth) when contemplation and doctrinal science began, 
the discovery of useful works ceased. 

But if any one turn from the manufactories to libraries, and 
be inclined to admire the immense variety of books offered to our 
view, let him but examine and diligently inspect the matter and 
contents of these books, and his astonishment will certainly 
change its object: for when he finds no end of repetitions, and 
how much men do and speak the same thing over again, he will 
pass from admiration of this variety to astonishment at the 
poverty and scarcity of matter, which has hitherto possessed and 
filled men's minds. 

But if any one should condescend to consider such sciences as 
are deemed rather curious than sound, and take a full view of 
the operations of the alchymists or magi, he will perhaps hesi- 
tate whether he ought rather to laugh or to weep. For the 
alchemist cherishes eternal hope, and when his labours succeed 
not, accuses his own mistakes, deeming, in his self-accusation, 
that he has not properly understood the words of art or of his 
authors ; upon which he listens to tradition and vague whispers, 
or imagines there is some slight unsteadiness in the minute 
details of his practice, and then has recourse to an endless repe- 

a The Chinese characters resemble, in many respects, the hiero- 
glyphics of the Egyptians, being adapted to represent ideas, not sounds. 

2e2 



420 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK I. 

tition of experiments : and in the mean time, when, in his casual 
experiments, he falls upon something in appearance new, or of 
some degree of utility, he consoles himself with such an earnest, 
and ostentatiously publishes them, keeping up his hope of the 
final result. Nor can it be denied that the alchemists have 
made several discoveries, and presented mankind with useful 
inventions. But we may well apply to them the fable of the old 
man, who bequeathed to his sons some gold buried in his garden, 
pretending not to know the exact spot, whereupon they worked 
diligently in digging the vineyard, and though they found no 
gold, the vintage was rendered more abundant by their labour. 

The followers of natural magic, who explain everything by 
sympathy and antipathy, have assigned false powers and mar- 
vellous operations to things by gratuitous and idle conjectures : 
and if they have ever produced any effects, they are rather 
wonderful and novel than of any real benefit or utility. 

In superstitious magic (if we say anything at all about it) we 
must chiefly observe, that there are only some peculiar and 
definite objects with which the curious and superstitious arts 
have, in every nation and age, and even under every religion, 
been able to exercise and amuse themselves. Let us, therefore, 
pass them over. In the mean time we cannot wonder that the 
false notion of plenty should have occasioned want. 

LXXXVI. The admiration of mankind with regard to the 
arts and sciences, which is of itself sufficiently simple and almost 
puerile, has been increased by the craft and artifices of those who 
have treated the sciences, and delivered them down to posterity. 
[For they propose and produce them to our view so fashioned, 
and as it were masked, as to make them pass for perfect and 
complete. For if you consider their method and divisions, they 
appear to embrace and comprise everything which can relate to 
the subject. And although this frame be badly filled up and 
resemble an empty bladder, yet it presents to the vulgar under- 
standing the form and appearance of a perfect science. 

The first and most ancient investigators of truth were wont, 
on the contrary, with more honesty and success, to throw all the 
knowledge they wished to gather from contemplation, and to lay 
up for use, into aphorisms, or short scattered sentences uncon- 
nected by any method, and without pretending or professing to 
comprehend any entire art. But according to the present system, 
we cannot wonder that men seek nothing beyond that which is 
handed down to them as perfect, and already extended to its full 
complement. 

LXXXVII. The ancient theories have received additional 
support and credit from the absurdity and levity of those who 
have promoted the new, especially in the active and practical 
part of natural philosophy. For there have been many silly and 



BOOK I.] APHORISMS. 421 

fantastical fellows who, from credulity or imposture, have loaded 
mankind with promises, announcing and boasting of the pro- 
longation of life, the retarding of old age, the alleviation of pains, 
the remedying of natural defects, the deception of the senses, the 
restraint and excitement of the passions, the illumination and 
exaltation of the intellectual faculties, the transmutation of sub- 
stances, the unlimited intensity and multiplication of motion, the 
impressions and changes of the air, the bringing into our power 
the management of celestial influences, the divination of future 
events, the representation of distant objects, the revelation of 
hidden objects, and the like. One would not be very wrong in 
observing with regard to such pretenders, that there is as much 
difference in philosophy, between their absurdity and real sci- 
ence, as there is in history between the exploits of Csesar or 
Alexander, and those of Amadis de Gaul and Arthur of Britain. 
For those illustrious generals are found to have actually per- 
formed greater exploits than such fictitious heroes are even pre- 
tended to have accomplished, by the means, however, of real 
action, and not by any fabulous and portentous power. Yet it 
is not right to suffer our belief in true history to be diminished, 
because it is sometimes injured and violated by fables. In the 
mean time we cannot wonder that great prejudice has been ex- 
cited against any new propositions (especially when coupled with 
any mention of effects to be produced), by the conduct of impos- 
tors who have made a similar attempt ; for their extreme absur- 
dity, and the disgust occasioned by it, has even to this day over- 
powered every spirited attempt of the kind. 

LXXXVlil. Want of energy, and the littleness and futility 
of the tasks that human industry has undertaken, have produced 
much greater injury to the sciences : and yet (to make it still 
worse) that very want of energy manifests itself in conjunction 
with arrogance and disdain. 

For, in the first place, one excuse, now from its repetition 
become familiar, is to be observed in every art, namely, that its 
promoters convert the weakness of the art itself into a calumny 
upon nature : and whatever it ia their hands fails to effect, they 
pronounce to be physically impossible. But how can the art 
ever be condemned whilst it acts as judge in its own cause ? 
Even the present system of philosophy cherishes in its bosom 
certain positions or dogmas, which (it will' be found on diligent 
inquiry) are calculated to produce a full conviction that no diffi- 
cult, commanding, and powerful operation upon nature ought to 
be anticipated through the means of art ; we instaneed b above 
the alleged different quality of heat in the sun and fire, and 
composition and mixture. Upon an accurate observation the 

b See Axiom 75. 



422 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK I. 

whole tendency of such positions is wilfully to circumscribe man's 
power, and to produce a despair of the means of invention and 
contrivance, which would not only confound the promises of hope, 
but cut the very springs and sinews of industry, and throw aside 
even the chances of experience. The only object of such philo- 
sophers is to acquire the reputation of perfection for their own 
art, and they are anxious to obtain the most silly and abandoned 
renown, by causing a belief that whatever has not yet been in- 
vented and understood can never be so hereafter. But if any 
one attempt to give himself up to things, and to discover some- 
thing new, yet he will only propose and destine for his object 
the investigation and discovery of some one invention, and 
nothing more ; as the nature of the magnet, the tides, the hea- 
venly system, and the like, which appear enveloped in some de- 
gree of mystery, and have hitherto been treated with but little 
success. JS" ow it is the greatest proof of want of skill, to inves- 
tigate the nature of any object in itself alone ; for that same 
nature, which seems concealed and hidden in some instances, is 
manifest and almost palpable in others, and excites wonder in 
the former, whilst it hardly attracts attention in the latter.* 5 Thus 
the nature of consistency is scarcely observed in wood or stone, 
but passed over by the term solid without any further inquiry 
about the repulsion of separation or the solution of continuity. 
But in water-bubbles the same circumstance appears matter of 
delicate and ingenious research, for they form themselves into thin 
pellicles, curiously shaped into hemispheres, so as for an instant 
to avoid the solution of continuity. 

In general those very things which are considered as secret 
are manifest and common in other objects, but will never be 
clearly seen if the experiments and contemplation of man be 
directed to themselves only. Yet it commonly happens, that if, 
in the mechanical arts, any one bring old discoveries to a finer 
polish, or more elegant height of ornament, or unite and com- 
pound them, or apply them more readily to practice, or exhibit 
them on a less heavy and voluminous scale, and the like, they 
will pass off as new. 

We cannot, therefore, wonder that no magnificent discoveries, 
worthy of mankind, have been brought to light, whilst men are 
satisfied and delighted with such scanty and puerile tasks, nay, 

c The methods by which Newton carried the rule and compass to 
the boundaries of creation is a sufficient comment on the sagacity of the 
text. The same cause which globulizes a bubble, has rounded the 
earth, and the same law which draws a stone to its surface, keeps the 
moon in her orbit. It was by calculating and ascertaining these prin- 
ciples upon substances entirely at his disposal that this great philo- 
sopher was enabled to give us a key to unlock the mysteries of the 
universe. Ed, 



BOOK I.] APHORISMS. 423 

even think that they have pursued or attained some great object 
in their accomplishment. 

LXXXIX. JSor should we neglect to observe that natural 
philosophy has, in every age, met with a troublesome and diffi- 
cult opponent : I mean superstition, and a blind and immoderate 
zeal for religion. For we see that, among the Greeks, those who 
first disclosed the natural causes of thunder and storms to the 
yet untrained ears of man were condemned as guilty of impiety 
towards the gods. d Nor did some of the old fathers of Chris- 
tianity treat those much better who showed by the most positive 
proofs (such as no one now disputes) that the earth is spherical, 
and thence asserted that there were antipodes. 6 

Even in the present state of things the condition of discussions 
on natural philosophy is rendered more difficult and dangerous 
by the summaries and methods of divines, who, after reducing 
divinity into such order as they could, and brought it into a sci- 
entific form, have proceeded to mingle an undue proportion of 
the contentious and thorny philosophy of Aristotle with the sub- 
stance of religion.' 

The fictions of those who have not feared to deduce and con- 
firm the truth of the Christian religion by the principles and 
authority of philosophers, tend to the same end, though in a 
different manner. g They celebrate the union of faith and the 
senses as though it were legitimate, with great pomp and solem- 
nity, and gratify men's pleasing minds with a variety, but in the 
meantime confound most improperly things divine and human. 
Moreover, in these mixtures of divinity and philosophy the re- 
ceived doctrines of the latter are alone included, and any novelty, 

d See the " Clouds" of Aristophanes, where Socrates is represented as 
chasing Jupiter out of the sky, by resolving thunder-storms into aerial 
concussions and whirlwinds. Ed. 

e Robespierre was the latest victim of this bigotry. In his younger 
days he attempted to introduce Franklin's lightning conductor into 
France, but was persecuted by those whose lives he sought to protect, 
as one audaciously striving to avert the designs of Providence. Ed. 

f We can hardly agree with the text. The scholastics, in buildiDg 
up a system of divinity, certainly had recourse to the deductive syllo- 
gism, because the inductive was totally inapplicable, except as a verifi- 
catory process. With regard to the technical form in which they mar- 
shalled their arguments, which is what our author aims at in his censure, 
they owed nothing at all to Aristotle, the conducting a dispute in 
naked syllogistic fashion having originated entirely with themselves. Ed, 

s Bacon cannot be supposed to allude to those divines who have 
attempted to show that the progress of physical science is confirmatory 
of revelation, but only to such as have built up a system of faith out of 
their own refinements on nature and revelation, as Patricius and 
Emanuel Sweden borg. Ed, 



424 NOVUM OKGANUM. [BOOK I. 

even though it be an improvement, scarcely escapes banishment 
and extermination. 

In short, you may find all access to any species of philosophy, 
however pure, intercepted by the ignorance of divines. Some in 
their simplicity are apprehensive that a too deep inquiry into 
nature may penetrate beyond the proper bounds of decorum, 
transferring and absurdly applying what is said of sacred mys- 
teries in Holy Writ against those who pry into divine secrets, to 
the mysteries of nature, which are not forbidden by any prohi- 
bition. Others with more cunning imagine and consider, that if 
secondary causes be unknown, everything may more easily be 
referred to the Divine hand and wand, a matter, as they think, 
of the greatest consequence to religion, but which can only really 
mean that God wishes to be gratified by means of falsehood. 
Others fear, from past example, lest motion and change in philo- 
sophy should terminate in an attack upon religion. Lastly, there 
are others who appear anxious lest there should be something 
discovered in the investigation of nature to overthrow, or at least 
shake, religion, particularly among the unlearned. The two last 
apprehensions appear to resemble animal instinct, as if men were 
diffident, in the bottom of their minds and secret meditations, of 
the strength of religion and the empire of faith over the senses, 
and therefore feared that some danger awaited them from an 
inquiry into nature. But any one who properly considers the 
subject will find natural philosophy to be, after the Word of 
God, the surest remedy against superstition, and the most ap- 
proved support of faith. She is, therefore, rightly bestowed 
upon religion as a most faithful attendant, for the one exhibits 
the will and the other the power of God. INor was he wrong 
who observed, "Ye err, not knowing the Scriptures and the 
power of God," thus uniting in one bond the revelation of his 
will and the contemplation of his power. In the meanwhile, it 
is not wonderful that the progress of natural philosophy has 
been restrained, since religion, which has so much influence on 
men's minds, has been led and hurried to oppose her through 
the ignorance of some and the imprudent zeal of others. 

XC. Again, in the habits and regulations of schools, univer- 
sities, and the like assemblies, destined for the abode of learned 
men and the improvement of learning, everything is found to be 
opposed to the progress of the sciences ; for the lectures and 
exercises are so ordered, that anything out of the common track 
can scarcely enter the thoughts and contemplations of the mind. 
If, however, one or two have perhaps dared to use their liberty, 
they can only impose the labour on themselves, without deriving 
any advantage from the association of others ; and if they put 
up with this, they will find their industry and spirit of no slight 
disadvantage to them in making their fortune ; for the pursuits 



BOOK I.] APHORISMS. 425 

of men in such situations are, as it were, chained down to the 
writings of particular authors, and if any one dare to dissent 
from them he is immediately attached as a turbulent and revolu- 
tionary spirit. Yet how great is the difference between civil 
matters and the arts, for there is not the same danger from new 
activity and new light. In civil matters even a change for the 
better is suspected on account of the commotion it occasions, for 
civil government is supported by authority, unanimity, fame, 
and public opinion, and not by demonstration. In the arts and 
sciences, on the contrary, every department should resound, as 
in mines, with new works and advances. And this is the ra- 
tional, though not the actual view of the case, for that adminis- 
tration and government of science we have spoken of is wont too 
rigorously to repress its growth. 

XCI. And even should the odium I have alluded to be 
avoided, yet it is sufficient to repress the increase of science 
that such attempts and industry pass unrewarded ; for the culti- 
vation of science and its reward belong not to the same indivi- 
dual. The advancement of science is the work of a powerful 
genius, the prize and reward belong to the vulgar or to princes, 
who (with a few exceptions) are scarcely moderately well in- 
formed. JSTay, such progress is not only deprived of the rewards 
and beneficence of individuals, but even of popular praise ; for it 
is above the reach of the generality, and easily overwhelmed and 
extinguished by the winds of common opinions. It is not won- 
derful, therefore, that little success has attended that which has 
been little honoured. 

XCII. But by far the greatest obstacle to the advancement of 
the sciences, and the undertaking of any new attempt or depart- 
ment, is to be found in men's despair and the idea of impos- 
sibility; for men of a prudent and exact turn of thought are 
altogether diffident in matters of this nature, considering the 
obscurity of nature, the shortness of life, the deception of the 
senses, and weakness of the judgment. They think, therefore, 
that in the revolutions of ages and of the world there are certain 
floods and ebbs of the sciences, and that they grow and flourish 
at one time, and wither and fall off at another, that when they 
have attained a certain degree and condition they can proceed 
no further. 

If, therefore, any one believe or promise greater things, they 
impute it to an uncurbed and immature mind, and imagine that 
such efforts begin pleasantly, then become laborious, and end in 
confusion. And since such thoughts easily enter the minds of 
men of dignity and excellent judgment, we must really take heed 
lest we should be captivated by our affection for an excellent 
and most beautiful object, and relax or dimmish the severity of 
our judgment; and we must diligently examine what gleam of 



426 NOVUM ORGANU3L [BOOK I. 

hope shines upon us, and in what direction it manifests itself, so 
that, banishing her lighter dreams, we may discuss and weigh 
whatever appears of more sound importance. We must consult 
the prudence of ordinary life, too, which is diffident upon prin- 
ciple, and in all human matters augurs the worst. Let us, then, 
speak of hope, especially as we are not vain promisers, nor are 
willing to enforce or ensnare men's judgment, but would rather 
lead them willingly forward. And although we shall employ the 
most cogent means of enforcing hope when we bring them to 
particulars, and especially those which are digested and arranged 
in our Tables of Invention (the subject partly of the second, but 
principally of the fourth part of the Instauration), which are, 
indeed, rather the very object of our hopes than hope itself; yet 
to proceed more leniently we must treat of the preparation of 
men's minds, of which the manifestation of hope forms no slight 
part ; for without it all that we have said tends rather to produce 
a gloom than to encourage activity or quicken the industry of 
experiment, by causing them to have a worse and more contemp- 
tuous opinion of things as they are than they now entertain, and 
to perceive and feel more thoroughly their unfortunate condition. 
We must, therefore, disclose and prefix our reasons for not 
thinking the hope of success improbable, as Columbus, before 
his wonderful voyage over the Atlantic, gave the reasons of his 
conviction that new lands and continents might be discovered 
besides those already known ; and these reasons, though at first 
rejected, were yet proved by subsequent experience, and were 
the causes and beginnings of the greatest events. 

XCIII. Let us begin from God, and show that our pursuit 
from its exceeding goodness clearly proceeds from him, the 
author of good and father of light. Now, in all divine works the 
smallest beginnings lead assuredly to some result, and the remark 
in spiritual matters that " the kingdom of God cometh without 
observation," is also found to be true in every great work of 
Divine Providence, so that everything glides quietly on without 
confusion or noise, and the matter is achieved before men either 
think or perceive that it is commenced. JNor should we neglect 
to mention the prophecy of Daniel, of the last days of the world, 
" Many shall run to and fro, and knowledge shall be increased," 11 
thus plainly hinting and suggesting that fate (which is Providence) 
would cause the complete circuit of the globe (now accomplished, 
or at least going forward by means of so many distant voyages), 
and the increase of learning to happen at the same epoch. 

XCIV. We will next give a most potent reason for hope 
deduced from the errors of the past, and the ways still un- 
attempted; for well was an ill-governed state thus reproved, 

h Daniel xii. 4. 



BOOK I.] APHORISMS. 427 

" That which is worst with regard to the past should appear 
most consolatory for the future ; for if you had done all that 
your duty commanded, and your affairs proceeded no better, 
you could not even hope for their improvement ; but since their 
present unhappy situation is not owing to the force of circum- 
stances, but to your own errors, you have reason to hope that 
by banishing or correcting the latter you can produce a great 
change for the better in the former." So if men had, during 
the many years that have elapsed, adhered to the right way of 
discovering and cultivating the sciences without being able to 
advance, it would be assuredly bold and presumptuous to ima- 
gine it possible to improve ; but if they have mistaken the way 
and wasted their labour on improper objects, it follows that the 
difficulty does not arise from things themselves, which are not in 
our power, but from the human understanding, its practice and 
application, which is susceptible of remedy and correction. Our 
best plan, therefore, is to expose these errors ; for in proportion 
as they impeded the past, so do they afford reason to hope for 
the future. And although we have touched upon them above, 
yet we think it right to give a brief, bare, and simple enumera- 
tion of them in this place. 

XCV. Those who have treated of the sciences have been 
either empirics or dogmatical. 1 The former like ants only heap 
up and use their store, the latter like spiders spin out their own 
webs. The bee, a mean between both, extracts matter from the 
flowers of the garden and the field, but works and fashions it by 
its own efforts. The true labour of philosophy resembles hers, 
for it neither relies entirely or principally on the powers of the 
mind, nor yet lays up in the memory the matter afforded by the 
experiments of natural history and mechanics in its raw state, 
but changes and works it in the understanding. We have good 
reason, therefore, to derive hope from a closer and purer alliance 
of these faculties (the experimental and rational) than has yet 
been attempted. 

XCVL Natural philosophy is not yet to be found unadulter- 
ated, but is impure and corrupted, — by logic in the school of 
Aristotle, by natural theology in that of Plato, k by mathematics 

1 Bacon, in this Aphorism, appears to have entertained a fair idea of 
the use of the inductive and deductive methods in scientific inquiry, 
though his want of geometrical knowledge must have hindered him 
from accurately determining the precise functions of each, as it cer- 
tainly led him in other parts of the Organon (V. Aph. 82), to under- 
value the deductive, and, as he calls it, the dogmatic method, and to 
rely too much upon empiricism. Ed. 

k The reader may consult the note of the 23rd Aphorism for the 
fault which Bacon censures, and, if he wish to pursue the subject 
further, may read Plato's Timseus, where that philosopher explains his 



428 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK I. 

in the second school of Plato (that of Proclus and others) 1 which 
ought rather to terminate natural philosophy than to generate 
or create it. We may, therefore, hope for better results from 
pure and unmixed natural philosophy. 

XCVII. No one has yet been found possessed of sufficient 
firmness and severity to resolve upon and undertake the task of 
entirely abolishing common theories and notions, and applying 
the mind afresh, when thus cleared and levelled, to particular 
researches ; hence our human reasoning i3 a mere farrago and 
crude mass made up of a great deal of credulity and accident, 
and the puerile notions it originally contracted. 

But if a man of mature age, unprejudiced senses, and clear 
mind, would betake himself anew to experience and particulars, 
we might hope much more from such a one ; in which respect 
we promise ourselves the fortune of Alexander the Great, and 
let none accuse us of vanity till they have heard the tale, which 
is intended to check vanity. 

For iEschines spoke thus of Alexander and his exploits : " We 
live not the life of mortals, but are born at such a period that 
posterity will relate and declare our prodigies ; " as if he consi- 
dered the exploits of Alexander to be miraculous. 

But in succeeding ages m Livy took a better view of the fact, 
and has made some such observation as this upon Alexander : 
" That he did no more than dare to despise insignificance." So 
in our opinion posterity will judge of us, that we have achieved 
no great matters, but only set less account upon what is consi- 
dered important ; for the meantime (as we have before observed) 

system in detail. Bacon, however, is hardly consistent in one part of his 
censure, for he also talks about the spirit and appetites of inanimate 
substances, and that so frequently, as to preclude the supposition that 
he is employing metaphor. Ed. 

1 Proclus nourished about the beginning of the fifth century, and 
was the successor of Plotinus, Porphyry, and Iamblicus, who, in the 
two preceding centuries, had revived the doctrines of Plato, and assailed 
the Christian religion. The allusion in the text must be assigned to 
Iamblicus, who, in the fourth century, had republished the Pythagorean 
theology of numbers, and endeavoured to construct the world out of 
arithmetic, thinking everything could be solved by the aid of proportions 
and geometry. Bacon must not be understood in the text to censure the 
use but the abuse of mathematics and physical investigations, as in the 
"De Augmentis" (lib. iv. c. 6), he enumerates the multiplicity of 
demonstration scientific facts admit of, from this source. Ed. 

m See Livy, lib. x. c. 17, where, in a digression on the probable 
effect of a contest between Kome and Alexander the Great, he says : 
" Non cum Bario rem esse dixisset : quern mulierum ac spadonum 
agmen trahentem inter purpuram atque aurum, oneratum fortunae 
apparatibus, praedam verius quam hostem, nihil aliud quam ausus vana 
contemnere, incruentus devicit." 



BOOK I.] APHORISMS. 429 

our only hope is in the regeneration of the sciences, by regularly 
raising them on the foundation of experience and building them 
anew, which I think none can venture to affirm to have been 
already done or even thought of. 

XCVIII. The foundations of experience (our sole resource) 
have hitherto failed completely or have been very weak ; nor has 
a store and collection of particular facts, capable of informing 
the mind or in any way satisfactory, been either sought after or 
amassed. On the contrary, learned, but idle and indolent, men 
have received some mere reports of experience, traditions as it 
were of dreams, as establishing or confirming their philosophy, 
and have not hesitated to allow them the weight of legitimate 
evidence. So that a system has been pursued in philosophy 
with regard to experience resembling that of a kingdom or state 
which would direct its councils and affairs according to the 
gossip of city and street politicians, instead of the letters and 
reports of ambassadors and messengers worthy of credit. No- 
thing is rightly inquired into, or verified, noted, weighed, or 
measured, in natural history ; indefinite and vague observation 
produces fallacious and uncertain information. If this appear 
strange, or our complaint somewhat too unjust (because Aris- 
totle himself, so distinguished a man and supported by the 
wealth of so great a king, has completed an accurate history of 
animals, to which others with greater diligence but less noise 
have made considerable additions, and others again have com- 
posed copious histories and notices of plants, metals, and fossils), 
it will arise from a want of sufficiently attending to and compre- 
hending our present observations ; for a natural history com- 
piled on its own account, and one collected for the mind's infor- 
mation as a foundation for philosophy, are two different things. 
They differ in several respects, but principally in this, — the for- 
mer contains only the varieties of natural species without the 
experiments of mechanical arts ; for as in ordinary life every 
person's disposition, and the concealed feelings of the mind and 
passions are most drawn out when they are disturbed, — so the 
secrets of nature betray themselves more readily when tormented 
by art than when left to their own course. We must begin, 
therefore, to entertain hopes of natural philosophy then only, 
when we have a better compilation of natural history, its real 
basis and support. 

XCIX. Again, even in the abundance of mechanical experi- 
ments, there is a very great scarcity of those which best inform 
and assist the understanding. For the mechanic, little solicitous 
about the investigation of truth, neither directs his attention, nor 
applies his hand to anything that is not of service to his business. 
But our hope of further progress in the sciences will then only 
be well founded, when numerous experiments shall be received 



430 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK I. 

and collected into natural history, which, though of no use in 
themselves, assist materially in the discovery of causes and 
axioms ; which experiments we have termed enlightening, to 
distinguish them from those which are profitable. They possess 
this wonderful property and nature, that they never deceive or 
fail you ; for being used only to discover the natural cause of 
some object, whatever be the result, they equally satisfy your 
aim by deciding the question. 

C. We must not only search for, and procure a greater 
number of experiments, but also introduce a completely different 
method, order, and progress of continuing and promoting ex- 
perience. For vague and arbitrary experience is (as we have 
observed), mere groping in the dark, and rather astonishes than 
instructs. But when experience shall proceed regularly and un- 
interruptedly by a determined rule, we may entertain better 
hopes of the sciences. 

CI. But after having collected and prepared an abundance 
and store of natural history, and of the experience required for 
the operations of the understanding cr philosophy, still the un- 
derstanding is as incapable of acting on such materials of itself, 
with the aid of memory alone, as any person would be of 
retaining and achieving, by memory, the computation of an 
almanack. Yet meditation has hitherto done more for discovery 
than writing, and no experiments have been committed to paper. 
We cannot, however, approve of any mode of discovery without 
writing, and when that comes into more general use, we may 
have further hopes. 

CII. Besides this, there is such a multitude and host, as it 
we're, of particular objects, and lying so widely dispersed, as to 
distract and confuse the understanding ; and we can, therefore, 
hope for no advantage from its skirmishing, and quick move- 
ments and incursions, unless we put its forces in due order and 
array, by means of proper and well arranged, and, as it were, 
living tables of discovery of these matters, which are the subject 
of investigation, and the mind then apply itself to the ready 
prepared and digested aid which such tables afford. 

CIII. When we have thus properly and regularly placed 
before the eyes a collection of particulars, we must not imme- 
diately proceed to the investigation and discovery of new 
particulars or effects, or, at least, if we do so, must not rest 
satisfied therewith. For, though we do not deny that by trans- 
ferring the experiments from one art to another (when all the 
experiments of each have been collected and arranged, and have 
been acquired by the knowledge, and subjected to the judgment 
of a single individual), many new experiments maybe discovered 
tending to benefit society and mankind, by what we term literate 
experience ; yet comparatively insignificant results are to be exr 



BOOK I.] APHORISMS. 431 

pected thence, whilst the more important are to be derived from 
the new light of axioms, deduced by certain method and rule 
from the above particulars, and pointing out and defining new 
particulars in their turn. Our road is not a long plain, but 
rises and falls, ascending to axioms, and descending to effects. 

CIV. JNor can we suffer the understanding to jump and fly 
from particulars to remote and most general axioms (such as are 
termed the principles of arts and things), and thus prove and 
make out their intermediate axioms according to the supposed 
unshaken truth of the former. This, however, has always been 
done to the present time from the natural bent of the under- 
standiDg, educated too, and accustomed to this very method, by 
the syllogistic mode of demonstration. But we can then only 
augur well for the sciences, when the ascent shall proceed by a 
true scale and successive steps, without interruption or breach, 
from particulars to the lesser axioms, thence to the intermediate 
(rising one above the other), and lastly, to the most general. 
For the lowest axioms differ but little from bare experiment ; a 
the highest and most general (as they are esteemed at present), 
are notional, abstract, and of no real weight. The intermediate 
are true, solid, full of life, and upon them depend the business 
and fortune of mankind ; beyond these are the really general, 
but not abstract, axioms, which are truly limited by the inter- 
mediate. 

We must not then add wings, but rather lead and ballast to 
the understanding, to prevent its jumping or flying, which has 
not yet been done ; but whenever this takes place, we may 
entertain greater hopes of the sciences. 

CV. In forming axioms, we must invent a different form of 

n The lowest axioms are such as spring from simple experience, — such 
as in chemistry, that animal substances yield no fixed salt by calcina- 
tion ; in music, that concords intermixed with discords make harmony, 
&c. Intermediate axioms advance a step further, being the result 
of reflection, which, applied to our experimental knowledge, deduces 
laws from them, such as in optics of the first degree of generality, that 
the angle of incidence is equal to the angle of reflection ; and in me- 
chanics, Kepler's three laws of motion, while his general law, that all 
bodies attract each other with forces proportional to their masses, and 
inversely as the squares of their distances, may be taken as one of the 
highest axioms. Yet so far is this principle from being only notional 
or abstract, it has presented us with a key which fits into the intricate 
wards ot the heavens, and has laid bare to our gaze the principal 
mechanism of the universe. But natural philosophy in Bacon's day had 
not advanced beyond intermediate axioms, and the term notional or 
abstract is applied to those general axioms then current, not founded 
on the solid principles oi inductive inquiry, but based upon & priori 
reasoning and airy metaphysics. Ed. 



432 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK I 

induction from that hitherto in use ; not only for the proof and 
discovery of principles (as they are called), but also of minor, 
intermediate, and, in short, every kind of axioms. The induc- 
tion which proceeds by simple enumeration is puerile, leads to 
uncertain conclusions, and is exposed to danger from one con- 
tradictory instance, deciding generally from too small a number 
of facts, and those only the most obvious. But a really useful 
induction for the discovery and demonstration of the arts and 
sciences, should separate nature by proper rejections and ex- 
clusions, and then conclude for the affirmative, after collecting 
a sufficient number of negatives. "Now this has not been done, 
nor even attempted, except perhaps by Plato, who certainly uses 
this form of induction in some measure, to sift definitions and 
ideas. But much of what has never yet entered the thoughts of 
man must necessarily be employed, in order to exhibit a good 
and legitimate mode of induction or demonstration, so as even 
to render it essential for us to bestow more pains upon it than 
have hitherto been bestowed on syllogisms. The assistance of 
induction is to serve us not only in the discovery of axioms, but 
also in defining our notions. Much indeed is to be hoped from 
such an induction as has been described. 

CVL In forming our axioms from induction, we must examine 
and try whether the axiom we derive be only fitted and calcu- 
lated for the particular instances from which it is deduced, or 
whether it be more extensive and general. If it be the latter, 
we must observe, whether it confirm its own extent and 
generality by giving surety, as it were, in pointing out new 
particulars, so that we may neither stop at actual discoveries, 
nor with a careless grasp catch at shadows and abstract forms, 
instead of substances of a determinate nature : and as soon as 
we act thus, well authorized hope may with reason, be said to 
beam upon us. 

CVII. Here, too, we may again repeat what we have said 
above, concerning the extending of natural philosophy and 
reducing particular sciences to that one, so as to prevent any 
schism or dismembering of the sciences ; without which we can- 
not hope to advance. 

CVIII. Such are the observations we would make in order to 
remove despair and excite hope, by bidding farewell to the 
errors of past ages, or by their correction. Let us examine 
whether there be other grounds for hope. And, first, if many 
useful discoveries have occurred to mankind by chance or oppor- 
tunity, without investigation or attention on their part, it must 
necessarily be acknowledged that much more may be brought to 
light by investigation and attention, if it be regular and orderly, 
not hasty and interrupted. For although it may now and then 
happen that one falls by chance upon something that had before 



BOOK I.] APHORISMS*. 433 

escaped considerable efforts and laborious inquiries, yet un- 
doubtedly the reverse is generally the case. We may, therefore, 
hope for further, better, and more frequent results from man's 
reason, industry, method, and application, than from chance and 
mere animal instinct, and the like, which have hitherto been the 
sources of invention. 

CIX. We may also derive some reason for hope from the 
circumstance of several actual inventions being of such a nature, 
that scarcely anyone could have formed a conjecture about them 
previously to their discovery, but would rather have ridiculed 
them as impossible. For men are wont to guess about new sub- 
jects from those they are already acquainted with, and the 
hasty and vitiated fancies they have thence formed : than which 
there cannot be a more fallacious mode of reasoning, because 
much of that which is derived from the sources of things does 
not now in their usual channel. 

If, for instance, before the discovery of cannon, one had 
described its effects in the following manner : There is a new in- 
vention by which walls and the greatest bulwarks can be shaken 
and overthrown from a considerable distance ; men would have 
begun to contrive various means of multiplying the force of 
projectiles and machines by means of weights and wheels, and 
other modes of battering and projecting. But it is improbable 
that any imagination or fancy woiud have hit upon a fiery blast, 
expanding and developing itself so suddenly and violently, 
because none would have seen an instance at all resembling it, 
except perhaps in earthquakes or thunder, which they would 
have immediately rejected as the great operations of nature, not 
to be imitated by man. 

So, if before the discovery of silk thread, any one had observed, 
That a species of thread had been discovered, fit for dresses and 
furniture, far surpassing the thread of worsted or flax in fineness, 
and at the same time in tenacity, beauty, and softness ; men 
would have begun to imagine something about Chinese plants, 
or the fine hair of some animals, or the feathers or down of 
birds, but certainly would never have had an idea of its being 
spun by a small worm, in so copious a manner, and renewed 
annually. But if any one had ventured to suggest the silkworm, 
he would have been laughed at as if dreaming of some new 
manufacture from spiders. 

So again, if before the discovery of the compass, any one had 
said, That an instrument had been invented, by which the 
quarters and points of the heavens could be exactly taken and 
distinguished, men would have entered into disquisitions on the 
refinement of astronomical instruments, and the like, from the 
excitement of their imaginations ; but the thought of anything 
being discovered, which, not being a celestial body, but a mere 
2 2f 



434 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK I. 

mineral or metallic substance, should yet in its motion agree 
with that of such bodies, would have appeared absolutely in- 
credible. Yet were these facts, and the like (unknown for so 
many ages) not discovered at last either by philosophy or reason- 
ing, but by chance and opportunity ; and (as we have observed), 
they are of a nature most heterogeneous, and remote from what 
was hitherto known, so that no previous knowledge could lead 
to them. 

We may, therefore, well hope that many excellent and useful 
matters are yet treasured up in the bosom of nature, bearing no 
relation or analogy to our actual discoveries, but out of the com- 
mon track of our imagination, and still undiscovered, and which 
will doubtless be brought to light in the course and lapse of 
years, as the others have been before them ; but in the way we 
now point out, they may rapidly and at once be both represented 
and anticipated. 

OX. There are, moreover, some inventions which render it 
probable that men may pass and hurry over the most noble dis- 
coveries which lie immediately before them. For however the 
discovery of gunpowder, silk, the compass, sugar, paper, or the 
like, may appear to depend on peculiar properties of things and 
nature, printing at least involves no contrivance which is not 
clear and almost obvious. But from want of observing that 
although the arrangement of the types of letters required more 
trouble than writing with the hand, yet these types once arranged 
serve for innumerable impressions, whilst manuscript only affords 
one copy ; and again, from want of observing that ink might be 
thickened so as to stain without running (which was necessary, 
seeing the letters face upwards, and the impression is made from 
above), this most beautiful invention (which assists so materially 
the propagation of learning) remained unknown for so many 
ages. 

The human mind is often so awkward and ill-regulated in the 
career of invention that it is at first diffident, and then despises 
itself. For it appears at first incredible that any such discovery 
should be made, and when it has been made, it appears incredible 
that it should so long have escaped men's research. All which 
affords good reason for the hope that a vast mass of inventions 
yet remains, which may be deduced not only from the investiga- 
tion of new modes of operation, but also from transferring, com- 
paring, and applying these already known, by the method of 
what we have termed literate experience. 

° This hope has been abundantly realized in the discovery of gravity 
and the decomposition of light, mainly by the inductive method. To a 
better philosophy we may also attribute the discovery of electricity, 
galvanism, and their mutual connection with each other, and magnetism, 
the inventions of the air-pump, steam-engine, and the chronometer. 



BOOK I.] APHORISMS. 435 

CXI. Nor should we omit another ground of hope. Let men 
only consider (if they will) their infinite expenditure of talent, 
time, and fortune, in matters and studies of far inferior impor- 
tance and value ; a small portion of which applied to sound and 
solid learning would be sufficient to overcome every difficulty. 
And we have thought right to add this observation, because we 
candidly own that such a collection of natural and experimental 
history as we have traced in our own mind, and as is really 
necessary, is a great and as it were royal work, requiring much 
labour and expense. 

CXII. In the meantime let no one be alarmed at the multitude 
of particulars, but rather inclined to hope on that very account. 
For the particular phenomena of the arts and nature are in 
reality but as a handful, when compared with the fictions of the 
imagination removed and separated from the evidence of facts. 
The termination of our method is clear, and I had almost said 
near at hand ; the other admits of no termination, but only of 
infinite confusion. For men have hitherto dwelt but little, or 
rather only slightly touched upon experience, whilst they have 
wasted much time on theories and the fictions of the imagination. 
If we had but any one who could actually answer our interroga- 
tions of nature, the invention of all causes and sciences would be 
the labour of but a few years. 

CXIIL We think some ground of hope is afforded by our own 
example, which is not mentioned for the sake of boasting, but as 
a useful remark. Let those who distrust their own powers 
observe myself, one who have amongst my contemporaries been 
the most engaged in public business, who am not very strong in 
health (which causes a great loss of time), and am the first ex- 
plorer of this course, following the guidance of none, nor even 
communicating my thoughts to a single individual ; yet having 
once firmly entered in the right way, and submitting the powers 
of my mind to things, I have somewhat advanced (as I make 
bold to think) the matter I now treat of. Then let others con- 
sider what may be hoped from men who enjoy abundant leisure, 
from united labours, and the succession of ages, after these sug- 
gestions on our part, especially in a course which is not confined, 
like theories, to individuals, but admits of the best distribution 
and union of labour and effect, particularly in collecting experi- 
ments. For men will then only begin to know their own power, 
when each performs a separate part, instead of undertaking in 
crowds the same work. 

CXIV. Lastly, though a much more faint and uncertain breeze 
of hope were to spring up from our new continent, yet we consi- 
der it necessary to make the experiment, if we would not show 
a dastard spirit. For the risk attending want of success is not 
to be compared with that of neglecting the attempt ; the former 

2 f2 



436 NOVUM OEGANUM. [BOOK I. 

is attended with tlie loss of a little human labour, the latter with 
that of an immense benefit. For these and other reasons it 
appears to us that there is abundant ground to hope, and to 
induce not only those who are sanguine to make experiment, but 
even those who are cautious and sober to give their assent. 

CXV. Such are the grounds for banishing despair, hitherto 
one of the most powerful causes of the delay and restraint to 
which the sciences have been subjected ; in treating of which we 
have at the same time discussed the signs and causes of the errors, 
idleness, and ignorance, that have prevailed ; seeing especially 
that the more refined causes, which are not open to popular 
judgment and observation, may be referred to our remarks on the 
idols of the human mind. 

Here, too, we should close the demolishing branch of our 
instauration, which is comprised in three confutations : 1, the 
confutation of natural human reason left to itself; 2, the confu- 
tation of demonstration; 3, the confutation of theories, or 
received systems of philosophy and doctrines. Our confutation 
has followed such a course as was open to it. namely, the exposing 
of the signs of error, and the producing evidence of the causes of 
it : for we could adopt no other, differing as we do both in first 
principles and demonstrations from others. 

It is time for us therefore to come to the art itself, and the 
rule for the interpretation of nature : there is, however, still 
something which must not be passed over. For the intent of 
this first book of aphorisms being to prepare the mind for under- 
standing, as well as admitting, what follows, we must now, after 
having cleansed, polished, and levelled its surface, place it in a 
good position, and as it were a benevolent aspect towards our 
propositions ; seeing that prejudice in new matters may be pro- 
duced not only by the strength of preconceived notions, but also 
by a false anticipation or expectation of the matter proposed. 
We shall therefore endeavour to induce good and correct opinions 
of what we offer, although this be only necessary for the moment, 
and as it were laid out at interest, until the matter itself be well 
understood. 

CXVI. First, then, we must desire men not to suppose that 
we are ambitious of founding any philosophical sect, like the 
ancient Greeks, or some moderns, as Telesius, Patricius, and 
Severinus. p For neither is this our intention, nor do we think 

p As Bacon very frequently cites these authors, a slight notice of their 
labours may not be unacceptable to the reader. Bernardinus Telesius, 
born at Cosenza, in 1508, combated the Aristotelian system in a work 
entitled " De Eerum Natura juxta propria principia," i. e. according to 
principles of his own. The proem of the work announces his design 
was to show that " the construction of the world, the magnitude and 



BOOK I.] APHORISMS. 437 

that peculiar abstract opinions on nature and the principles of 
things are of much importance to men's fortunes, since it were 
easy to revive many ancient theories, and to introduce many new 
ones ; as for instance, many hypotheses with regard to the 
heavens can be formed, differing in themselves, and yet suffi- 
ciently according with the phenomena. 

We bestow not our labour on such theoretical, and, at the 
same time, useless topics. On the contrary, our determination 
is that of trying, whether we can lay a firmer foundation, and 
extend to a greater distance the boundaries of human power and 
dignity. And although here and there, upon some particular 
points, we hold (in our own opinion) more true and certain, and 
1 might even say, more advantageous tenets than those in 

feneral repute (which we have collected in the fifth part of our 
nstauration), yet we offer no universal or complete theory. The 
time does not yet appear to us to be arrived, and we entertain no 
hope of our life being prolonged to the completion of the sixth 
part of the instauration (which is destined for philosophy dis- 
covered by the interpretation of nature), but are content if we 
proceed quietly and usefully in our intermediate pursuit, scatter- 
ing, in the mean time, the seeds of less adulterated truth for 
posterity, and, at least, commence the great work. 

nature of the bodies contained in it, are not to be investigated by rea- 
soning, which was done by the ancients, but are to be apprehended by 
the senses, and collected from the things themselves." He had, how- 
ever, no sooner laid down this principle than he departed from it in 
practice, and pursued the deductive method he so much condemned in his 
predecessors. His first step was an assumption of principles as arbitrary 
as any of the empirical notions of antiquity ; at the outset of his book he 
very quietly takes it for granted that heat is the principle of motion, 
cold of immobility, matter being assumed as the corporeal substratum, 
in which these incorporeal and active agents cany on their operations. 
Out of these abstract and ill-defined conceptions Telesius builds up a 
system quite as complete, symmetrical, and imaginative as any of the 
structures of antiquity. 

Francis Patricius, born at Cherso, in Dalmatia, about 1529, was 
another physicist who rose up against Aristotle, and announced the dawn 
of a new philosophy. In 1593 appeared his " Nova de Universis Philoso- 
phia." He lays down a string of axioms, in which scholastic notions, 
physical discoveries, and theological dogmas, are strangely commingled, 
and erects upon them a system which represents all the grotesque 
features of theological empiricism. 

Severinus, born in Jutland, in 1529, published an attack on Aristotle's 
natural history, but adopted fantasies which the Stagyrite ridiculed in 
his own day. He was a follower of Paracelsus, a Swiss enthusiast of 
the fifteenth century, who ignored the ancient doctrine of the four 
elements for salt, sulphur, and mercury, and allied chemistry and medi- 
cine with mysticism. Ed. 



438 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK I. 

CXVIL And, as we pretend not to found a sect, so do we 
neither offer nor promise particular effects ; which may occasion 
some to object to us, that since we so often speak of effects, and 
consider everything in its relation to that end, we ought also to 
give some earnest of producing them. Our course and method, 
however (as we have often said, and again repeat), is such as not 
to deduce effects from effects, nor experiments from experiments 
(as the empirics do), but in our capacity of legitimate interpreters 
of nature, to deduce causes and axioms from effects and ex- 
periments ; and new effects and experiments from those causes 
and axioms. 

And although any one of moderate intelligence and ability 
will observe the indications and sketches of many noble effects 
in our tables of inventions (which form the fourth part of the 
Instauration), and also in the examples of particular instances 
cited in the second part, as well as in our observations on history 
(which is the subject of the third part); yet we candidly confess 
that our present natural history, whether compiled from books 
or our own inquiries, is not sufficiently copious and well ascer- 
tained to satisfy, or even assist, a proper interpretation. 

If, therefore, there be any one who is more disposed and pre- 
pared for mechanical art, and ingenious in discovering effects, 
than in the mere management of experiment, we allow him to 
employ his industry in gathering many of the fruits of our 
history and tables in this way, and applying them to effects, re- 
ceiving them as interest till he can obtain the principal. For 
our own part, having a greater object in view, we condemn all 
hasty and premature rest in such pursuits as we would Atalanta's 
apple (to use a common allusion of ours) ; for we are not child- 
ishly ambitious of golden fruit, but use all our efforts to make 
the course of art outstrip nature, and we hasten not to reap moss 
or the green blade, but wait for a ripe harvest. 

CX VIII. There will be some, without doubt, who, on a perusal 
of our history and tables of invention, will meet with some un- 
certainty, or perhaps fallacy, in the experiments themselves, and 
will thence perhaps imagine that our discoveries are built on 
false foundations and principles. There is, however, really 
nothing in this, since it must needs happen in beginnings. q For 

i Bacon's apology is sound, and completely answers those German 
and French critics, who have refused him a niche in the philoso- 
phical pantheon. One German commentator, too modest to reveal his 
name, accuses Bacon of ignorance of the calculus, though, in his day, 
Wallis had not yet stumbled upon the laws of continuous fractions ; while 
Count de Maistre, in a coarse attack upon his genius, expresses his 
astonishment at finding Bacon unacquainted with discoveries which 
were not heard of till a century after his death. Ed, 



BOOK I.] APHORISMS. 439 

it is' the same as if in writing or printing one or two letters were 
wrongly turned or misplaced, which is no great inconvenience to 
the reader, who can easily by his own eye correct the error ; let 
men in the same way conclude, that many experiments in natural 
history may be erroneously believed and admitted, which are 
easily expunged and rejected afterwards, by the discovery of 
causes and axioms. It is, however, true, that if these errors in 
natural history and experiments become great, frequent, and con- 
tinued, they cannot be corrected and amended by any dexterity 
of wit or art. If then, even in our natural history, well ex- 
amined and compiled with such diligence, strictness, and (I might 
say) reverential scruples, there be now and then something 
ialse and erroneous in the details, what must we say of the com- 
mon natural history, which is so negligent and careless when 
compared with ours ? or of systems of philosophy and the 
sciences, based on such loose soil (or rather quicksand) ? Let 
none then be alarmed by such observations. 

CXIX. Again, our history and experiments will contain much 
that is light and common, mean and illiberal, too refined and 
merely speculative, and, as it were, of no use, and this per- 
haps may divert and alienate the attention of mankind. 

With regard to what is common ; let men reflect, that they 
have hitherto been used to do nothing but refer and adapt the 
causes of things of rare occurrence to those of things which 
more frequently happen, without any investigation of the causes 
of the latter, taking them for granted and admitted. 

Hence, they do not inquire into the causes of gravity, the 
rotation of the heavenly bodies, heat, cold, light, hardness, soft- 
ness, rarity, density, liquidity, solidity, animation, inanimation, 
similitude, difference, organic formation, but taking them to be 
self-evident, manifest, and admitted, they dispute and decide 
upon other matters of less frequent and familiar occurrence. 

But we (who know that no judgment can be formed of that 
which is rare or remarkable, and much less anything new brought 
to light, without a previous regular examination and discovery 
of the causes of that which is common, and the causes again of 
those causes) are necessarily compelled to admit the most common 
objects into our history. Besides, we have observed that nothing 
has been so injurious to philosophy as this circumstance, namely, 
that familiar and frequent objects do not arrest and detain men's 
contemplation, but are carelessly admitted, and their causes 
never inquired after ; so that information on unknown subjects 
is not more often wanted than attention to those which are 
known. 

CXX. With regard to the meanness, or even the filthiness of 
particulars, for which (as Pliny observes), an apology is requisite, 



440 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK I. 

sucli subjects are no less worthy of admission into natural history 
than the most magnificent and costly ; nor do they at all pollute 
natural history, for the sun enters alike the palace and the privy, 
and is not thereby polluted. We neither dedicate nor raise a 
capitol or pyramid to the pride of man, but rear a holy temple 
in his mind, on the model of the universe, which model therefore 
we imitate. For that which is deserving of existence is deserv- 
ing of knowledge, the image of existence. Now the mean and 
splendid alike exist. ISTay, as the finest odours are sometimes 
produced from putrid matter (such as musk and civet), so does 
valuable light and information emanate from mean and sordid 
instances. But we have already said too much, for such fasti- 
dious feelings are childish and effeminate. 

CXXL The next point requires a more accurate consideration, 
namely, that many parts of our history will appear to the vulgar, 
or even any mind accustomed to the present state of things, 
fantastically and uselessly refined. Hence, we have in regard 
to this matter said from the first, and must again repeat, that 
we look for experiments that shall afford light rather than profit, 
imitating the divine creation, which, as we have often observed, 
only produced light on the first day, and assigned that whole day 
to its creation, without adding any material work. 

If any one, then, imagine such matters to be of no use, he 
might equally suppose light to be of no use, because it is neither 
eolid nor material. For, in fact, the knowledge of simple 
natures, when sufficiently investigated and defined, resembles 
light, which, though of no great use in itself, affords access to 
the general mysteries of effects, and with a peculiar power com- 
prehends and draws with it whole bands and troops of effects, 
and the sources of the most valuable axioms. So also the 
elements of letters have of themselves separately no meaning, 
and are of no use, yet are they, as it were, the original matter 
in the composition and preparation of speech. The seeds of sub- 
stances, whose effect is powerful, are of no use except in their 
growth, and the scattered rays of light itself avail not unless 
collected. 

But if speculative subtilties give offence, what must we say of 
the scholastic philosophers who indulged in them to such excess ? 
And those subtilties were wasted on words, or, at least, common 
notions {which is the same thing), not on things or nature, and 
alike unproductive of benefit in their origin and their con- 
sequences : in no way resembling ours, which are at present use- 
less, but in their consequences of infinite benefit. Let men be 
assured that all subtle disputes and discursive efforts of the 
mind are late and preposterous, when they are introduced sub- 
sequently to the discovery of axioms, and that their true, or, at 



BOOK l] aphomsms. 441 

any rate, chief opportunity is, when experiment is to be weighed 
and axioms to be derived from it. They otherwise catch and 
grasp at nature, but never seize or detain her : and we may well 
apply to nature that which has been said of opportunity or 
fortune, that she wears a lock in front, but is bald behind. 

In short, we may reply decisively to those who despise any 
part of natural history as being vulgar, mean, or subtile, and 
useless in its origin, in the words of a poor woman to a hanghty 
prince/ who had rejected her petition as unworthy, and beneath 
the dignity of his majesty: "Then cease to reign," for it is 
quite certain that the empire of nature can neither be obtained 
nor administered by one who refuses to pay attention to such 
matters as being poor and too minute, 

CXXII. Again, it may be objected to us as being singular 
and harsh, that we should with one stroke and assault, as it 
were, banish all authorities and sciences, and that too by our 
own efforts, without requiring the assistance and support 01 any 
of the ancients. 

Now we are aware, that had we been ready to act otherwise 
than sincerely, it was not difficult to refer our present method to 
remote ages, prior to those of the Greeks (since the sciences in 
all probability nourished more in their natural state, though 
silently, than when they were paraded with the fifes and trumpets 
of the Greeks); or even (in parts, at least), to some of the Greeks 
themselves, and to derive authority and honour from thence ; as 
men of no family labour to raise and form nobility for themselves 
in some ancient line, by the help of genealogies. Trusting, 
however, to the evidence of facts, we reject every kind of fiction 
and imposture ; and think it of no more consequence to our 
subject, whether future discoveries were known to the ancient3, 
and set or rose according to the vicissitudes of events and lapse 
of ages, than it would be of importance to mankind to know 
whether the new world be the island of Atlantis, 6 and known to 
the ancients, or be now discovered for the first time. 

With regard to the universal censure we have bestowed, it is 
quite clear to any one who properly considers the matter, that it 
is both more probable and more modest than any partial one 
could have been, For if the errors had not been rooted in the 
primary notions, some well conducted discoveries must have 
corrected others that were deficient. But since the errors were 
fundamental, and of such a nature, that men may be said rather 
to have neglected or passed over things, than to have formed a 
wrong or false judgment of them, it is little to be wondered at, 
that they did not obtain what they never aimed at, nor arrive at 

r Philip of Macedon. « See Plato's Timaeus. 



442 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK I. 

a goal winch they had not determined, nor perform a course 
which they had neither entered upon nor adhered to. 

With regard to our presumption, we allow that if we were to 
assume a power of drawing a more perfect straight line or circle 
than any one else, by superior steadiness of" hand or acuteness 
of eye, it would lead to a comparison of talent ; but if one 
merely assert that he can draw a more perfect line or circle with 
a ruler or compasses, than another can by his unassisted hand or 
eye, he surely cannot be said to boast ot much. Now this 
applies not only to our first original attempt, but also to those 
who shall hereafter apply themselves to the pursuit. For our 
method of discovering the sciences merely levels men's wits, and 
leaves but little to their superiority, since it achieves everything 
by the most certain rules and demonstrations. Whence (as we 
have often observed), our attempt is to be attributed to fortune 
rather than talent, and is the offspring of time rather than of 
wit. For a certain sort of chance has no less effect upon our 
thoughts than on our acts and deeds. 

CXXIII. We may, therefore, apply to ourselves the joke of 
him who said, that water and wine drinkers could not think alike,* 
especially as it hits the matter so well. For others, both 
ancients and moderns, have in the sciences drank a crude liquor 
like water, either flowing of itself from the understanding, or 
drawn up by logic as the wheel draws up the bucket. But we 
drink and pledge others with a liquor made of many well 
ripened grapes, collected and plucked from particular branches, 
squeezed in the press, and at last clarified and fermented in 
a vessel. It is not, therefore, wonderful that we should not 
agree with others. 

CXXIV. Another objection will without doubt be made, 
namely, that we have not ourselves established a correct, or the 
best goal or aim of the sciences (the very defect we blame in 
others). For they will say that the contemplation of truth is 
more dignified and exalted than any utility or extent of effects ; 
but that our dwelling so long and anxiously on experience and 
matter, and the fluctuating state of particulars, fastens the mind 
to earth, or rather casts it down into an abyss of confusion and 
disturbance, and separates and removes it from a much more 
divine state, the quiet and tranquillity of abstract wisdom. We 
willingly assent to their reasoning, and are most anxious to effect 
the very point they hint at and require. For we are founding 
a real model of the world in the understanding, such as it is 
found to be, not such as man's reason has distorted. Now this 
cannot be done without dissecting and anatomizing the world 

1 The saying of Philocrates when he differed from Demosthenes. Ed. 



BOOK I.] APHORISMS, 443 

most diligently ; but we declare it necessary to destroy com- 
pletely the vain little, and as it were, apish imitations of the world, 
which have been formed in various systems of philosophy by 
men's fancies. Let men learn (as we have said above), the 
difference that exists between the idols of the human mind and 
the ideas of the divine mind. The former are mere arbitrary 
abstractions ; the latter the true marks of the Creator on his 
creatures, as they are imprinted on, and defined in matter, by 
true and exquisite touches. Truth, therefore, and utility, are 
here perfectly identical, and the effects are of more value as 
pledges of truth than from the benefit they confer on men. 

CXXV. Others may object that we are only doing that which 
has already been done, and that the ancients followed the same 
course as ourselves. They may imagine, therefore, that, after 
all this stir and exertion, we shall at last arrive at some of those 
systems that prevailed among the ancients : for that they, too, 
when commencing their meditations, laid up a great store of 
instances and particulars, and digested them under topics and 
titles in their common-place books, and so worked out their 
systems and arts, and then decided upon what they discovered, 
and related now and then some examples to confirm and throw 
light upon their doctrine; but thought it superfluous and trouble- 
some to publish their notes, minutes, and common-places, and 
therefore followed the example of builders who remove the 
scaffolding and ladders when the building is finished. Nor can 
we indeed believe the case to have been otherwise. But to any 
one, not entirely forgetful of our previous observations, it will 
be easy to answer this objection or rather scruple ; for we allow 
that the ancients had a particular form of investigation and dis- 
covery, and their writings show it. But it was of such a nature, 
that they immediately flew from a few instances and particulars 
(after adding some common notions, and a few generally received 
opinions most in vogue) to the most general conclusions or the 
principles of the sciences, and then by their intermediate propo- 
sitions deduced their inferior conclusions, and tried them by the 
test of the immoveable and settled truth of the first, and so con- 
structed their art. Lastly, if some new particulars and instances 
were brought forward, which contradicted their dogmas, they 
either with great subtilty reduced them to one system, by dis- 
tinctions or explanations of their own rules, or got rid of them 
clumsily as exceptions, labouring most pertinaciously in the mean 
time to accommodate the causes of such as were not contradictory 
to their own principles. Their natural history and their expe- 
rience were both far from being what they ought to have been, 
and their flying off to generalities ruined everything. 

CXXVI. Another objection will be made against us, that we 



444 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK I. 

prohibit decisions, and the laying down of certain principles, till 
we arrive regularly at generalities by the intermediate steps, and 
thus keep the judgment in suspense and lead to uncertainty. 
But our object is not uncertainty but fitting certainty, for we 
derogate not from the senses but assist them, and despise not the 
understanding but direct it. It is better to know what is neces- 
sary, and not to imagine we are fully in possession of it, than to 
imagine that we are fully in possession of it, and yet in reality to 
know nothing which we ought. 

CXXVII. Again, some may raise this question rather than 
objection, whether we talk of perfecting natural philosophy alone 
according to our method, or the other sciences also, such as 
logic, ethics, politics. We certainly intend to comprehend them 
all. And as common logic, which regulates matters by syllo- 
gisms, is applied not only to natural, but also to every other sci- 
ence, so our inductive method likewise comprehends them all. 11 
For we form a history and tables of invention for anger, fear, 
shame, and the like, and also for examples in civil life, and the 
mental operations of memory, composition, division, judgment, 
and the rest, as well as for heat and cold, light, vegetation, and 
the like. But since our method of interpretation, after preparing 
and arranging a history, does not content itself with examining the 
operations and disquisitions of the mind like common logic, but 
also inspects the nature of things, we so regulate the mind that it 
may be enabled to apply itself in every respect correctly to that 
nature. On that account we deliver numerous and various pre- 
cepts in our doctrine of interpretation, so that they may apply in 

u The old error of placing the deductive syllogism in antagonism to 
the inductive, as if they were not both parts of one system or refused to 
cohere together. So far from there being any radical opposition 
between them, it would not be difficult to show that Bacon's method 
was syllogistic in his sense of the term. For the suppressed premiss of 
every Baconian enthymeme, viz. the acknowledged uniformity of the 
laws of nature as stated in the axiom, whatever has once occurred will 
occur again, must be assumed, as the basis of every conclusion which he 
draws before we can admit its legitimacy. The opposition, therefore, of 
Bacon's method could not be directed against the old logic, for it assumed 
and exemplified its principles, but rather to the abusive application 
which the ancients made of this science, in turning its powers to the 
development of abstract principles which they imagined to be pregnant 
with the solution of the latent mysteries of the universe. Bacon justly 
overthrew these ideal notions, and accepted of no principle as a basis 
which was not guaranteed by actual experiment and observation ; 
and so far he laid the foundations of a sound philosophy by turn- 
ing the inductive logic to its proper account in the interpretation of 
nature. 



BOOK I.] APHORISMS. 445 

some, measure to the method of discovering the quality and con- 
dition of the subject matter of investigation. 

CXXVIII. Let none even doubt whether we are anxious to 
destroy and demolish the philosophy, arts, and sciences, which 
are now in use. On the contrary, we readily cherish their 
practice, cultivation, and honour; for we by no means interfere 
to prevent the prevalent system from encouraging discussion, 
adorning discourses, or being employed serviceably in the chair 
of the professor or the practice of common life,, and being taken, 
in short, by general consent as current coin. Nay, we plainly 
declare, that the system we offer will not be very suitable for 
such purposes, not being easily adapted to vulgar apprehensions, 
except by effects and works. To show our sincerity in professing 
our regard and friendly disposition towards the received sciences, 
we can refer to the evidence of our published writings (especially 
our books on the Advancement of Learning). We will not, 
therefore, endeavour to evince it any further by words ; but 
content ourselves with steadily and professedly premising, that 
no great progress can be made by the present methods in the 
theory or contemplation of science, and that they cannot be made 
to produce any very abundant effects. 

CXXIX. It remains for us to say a few words on the excel- 
lence of our proposed end. If we had done so before, we might 
have appeared merely to express our wishes, but now that we 
have excited hope and removed prejudices, it will perhaps have 
greater weight. Had we performed and completely accomplished 
the whole, without frequently calling in others to assist in our 
labours, we should then have refrained from saying any more, 
lest we should be thought to extol our own deserts. Since, 
however, the industry of others must be quickened, and their 
courage roused and inflamed, it is right to recall some points to 
their memory. 

First, then, the introduction of great inventions appears one 
of the most distinguished of human actions, and the ancients so 
considered it ; for they assigned divine honours to the authors 
of inventions, but only heroic honours to those who displayed 
civil merit (such as the founders of cities and empires, legislators, 
the deliverers of their country from lasting misfortunes, the 
quellers of tyrants, and the like). And if any one rightly com- 
pare them, he will find the judgment of antiquity to be correct; 
for the benefits derived from inventions may extend to mankind 
in general, but civil benefits to particular spots alone ; the latter, 
moreover, last but for a time, the former for ever. Civil refor- 
mation seldom is carried on without violence and confusion, 
whilst inventions are a blessing and a benefit without injuring or 
afflicting any. 



446 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK I. 

Inventions are also, as it were, new creations and imitations of 
divine works, as was expressed by the poet : x — 

" Primum frugiferos foetus mortalibus segris 
Dididerant quondam praestanti nomine Athense 
Et recreaverunt vitam legesque rogarunt." 

And it is worthy of remark in Solomon, that whilst he flourished 
in the possession of his empire, in wealth, in the magnificence of 
his works, in his court, his household, his fleet, the splendour of 
his name, and the most unbounded admiration of mankind, he 
still placed his glory in none of these, but declared 7 that it is the 
glory of God to conceal a thing, but the glory of a king to search 
it out. 

Again, let any one but consider the immense difference between 
men's lives in the most polished countries of Europe, and in any 
wild and barbarous region of the new Indies, he will think it so 
great, that man may be said to be a god unto man, not only on 
account of mutual aid and benefits, but from their comparative 
states — the result of the arts, and not of the soil or climate. 

Again, we should notice the force, effect, and consequences of 
inventions, which are nowhere more conspicuous than in those 
three which were unknown to the ancients ; namely, printing, 
gunpowder, and the compass. For these three have changed the 
appearance and state of the whole world : first in literature, then 
in warfare, and lastly in navigation ; and innumerable changes 
have been thence derived, so that no empire, sect, or star, appears 
to have exercised a greater power and influence on human affairs 
than these mechanical discoveries. 

It will, perhaps, be as well to distinguish three species and 
degrees of ambition. First, that of men who are anxious to 
enlarge their own power in their country, which is a vulgar and 
degenerate kind ; next, that of men who strive to enlarge the 
power and empire of their country over mankind, which is more 
dignified but not less covetous ; but if one were to endeavour to 
renew and enlarge the power and empire of mankind in general 
over the universe, such ambition (if it may be so termed) is both 
more sound and more noble than the other two. JNow the empire 

x This is the opening of the sixth book of Lucretius. Bacon pro- 
bably quoted Irom memory ; the lines are, — 

" Primse frugiferos foetus mortalibus segris 
Dididerunt quondam prseclaro nomine Athense 
Et recreaverunt, &c." 

The teeming corn, that feeble mortals crave, 

First, and long since, renowned Athens gave, 

And cheered their liie — then taught to frame their laws. 

y Prov. xxv. 2. 



BOOK I.] APHORISMS. 447 

of man over things is founded on the arts and sciences alone, for 
nature is only to be commanded by obeying her. 

Besides this, ii the benefit of any particular invention has had 
such an efiect as to induce men to consider him greater than a 
man, who has thus obliged the whole race, how much more 
exalted will that discovery be, which leads to the easy discovery 
of everything else ! Yet (to speak the truth) in the same manner 
as we are very thankful for light which enables us to enter on 
our way, to practise arts, to read, to distinguish each other, and 
yet sight is more excellent and beautiful than the various uses of 
light ; so is the contemplation of things as they are, free from 
superstition or imposture, error or confusion, much more digni- 
fied in itseli than all the advantage to be derived from disco- 
veries. 

Lastly, let none be alarmed at the objection of the arts and 
sciences becoming depraved to malevolent or luxurious purposes 
and the like, for the same can be said of every worldly good ; 
talent, courage, strength, beauty, riches, light itself, and the rest. 
Only let mankind regain their rights over nature, assigned to 
them by the gift of God, and obtain that power, whose exercise 
will be governed by right reason and true religion. 

CXXX. But it is time for us to lay down the art of inter- 
preting nature, to which we attribute no absolute necessity (as if 
nothing could be done without it) nor perfection, although we 
think that our precepts are most useful and correct. For we are 
of opinion, that if men had at their command a proper history 
of nature and experience, and would apply themselves steadily 
to it, and could bind themselves to two things : 1. to lay aside 
received opinions and notions ; 2. to restrain themselves, till the 
proper season, from generalization, they might, by the proper 
and genuine exertion of their minds, fall into our way of inter- 
pretation without the aid of any art. For interpretation is the 
true and natural act of the mind, when all obstacles are re- 
moved : certainly, however, everything will be more ready and 
better fixed by our precepts. 

Yet do we not affirm that no addition can be made to them ; 
on the contrary, considering the mind in its connection with 
things, and not merely relatively to its own powers, we ought to 
be persuaded that the art of invention can be made to grow with 
the inventions themselves. 



448 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK II. 



APHORISMS.— BOOK II. 

On the Interpretation of Nature, or the Reign of Man, 

I. To generate and superinduce a new nature or new natures, 
upon a given body, is the labour and aim of human power : 
whilst to discover the form or true difference of a giving nature, 
or the nature a to which such nature is owing, or source from 
which it emanates (for these terms approach nearest to an ex- 
planation of our meaning), is the labour and discovery of human 
knowledge ; and subordinate to these primary labours are two 
others of a secondary nature and inferior stamp. Under the first 
must be ranked the transformation of concrete bodies from one 
to another, which is possible within certain limits ; under the 
second, the discovery, in every species of generation and motion, 
of the latent and uninterrupted process from the manifest effi- 
cient and manifest subject matter up to the given form: and a 
like discovery of the latent conformation of bodies which are 
at rest instead of being in motion. 

II. The unhappy state of man's actual knowledge is manifested 
even by the common assertions of the vulgar. It is rightly laid 
down that true knowledge is that which is deduced from causes. 
The division of four causes also is not amiss : matter, form, the 
efficient, and end or final cause. b Of these, however, the latter 
is so far from being beneficial, that it even corrupts the sciences, 
except in the intercourse of man with man. The discovery of form 
is considered desperate. As for the efficient cause and matter 
(according to the present system of inquiry and the received 
opinions concerning them, by which they are placed remote 
from, and without any latent process towards form), they are but 
desultory and superficial, and of scarcely any avail to real and 
active knowledge. Nor are we unmindful of our having pointed 
out and corrected above the error of the human mind, in assign- 

a To tl i)V elvai, or rjv ovaia of Aristotle.— See lib. iii. Metap. 

b These divisions are from Aristotle's Metaphysics, where they are 
termed, 1. v\rj i) to VTTOKeijxevov. 2. to tI i)v elvai. 3. oQev r\ ap\l 
ttj£ KtvrjcreojQ. 4. to ov epeicev — /cat to aya96v. 



BOOK II. j APHOSTSM8. 449 

ing the first qualities of essence to form?. c For although nothing 
exists in nature except individual bodies,* exhibiting clear indi- 
vidual effects according to particular laws, yet in each branch of 
learning, that very law, its investigation, discovery, and develop- 
ment, are the foundation both of theory and practice. This law, 
therefore, and its parallel in each science, is what we understand 
by the term form, 6 adopting that word because it has grown into 
common use, and is of familiar occurrence. 

c See Aphorism li. and second paragraph of Aphorism Ixv. in the 
first book. 

d Bacon means, that although there exist in nature only individual- 
ities, yet a certain number of these may have common properties, and 
be controlled by the same laws. Now, these homogeneous qualities 
which distinguish them from other individuals, lead us to class them 
under one expression, and sometimes under a single term. Yet these 
classes are only pure conceptions in Bacon's opinion, and cannot be 
taken for distinct substances. He evidently here aims a blow at the 
Realists, who concluded that the essence which united individualities in 
a class was the only real and immutable existence in nature, inasmuch 
as it entered into their ideas of individual substances as a distinct and 
essential property, and continued in the mind as the mould, type, or 
pattern of the class, while its individual forms were undergoing per- 
petual renovation and decay. Ed. 

e Bacon's definition is obscure. All the idea we have of a law of 
nature consists in invariable sequence between certain classes of 
phenomena ; but this cannot be the complete sense attached by Bacon 
to the term form, as he employs it in the fourth aphorism as convertible 
with the nature of any object ; and again in the first aphorism, 
as the natura naturans, or general law or condition in any sub- 
stance or quality, — natura naturata — which is whatever its form is, 
or that particular combination of forces which impresses a certain 
nature upon matter subject to its influence. Thus, in the Newtonian 
sense, the form of whiteness would be that combination of the seven 
primitive rays of light which give rise to that colour. In combination 
with this word, and affording a still further insight into its meaning, we 
have the phrases, latens processus ad formam, et latens schematism/as cor- 
porum. N bw, the latens schematismus signifies the internal texture, struc- 
ture, or configuration of bodies, or the result of the respective situation 
of all the parts oi a body ; while the latens processus ad formam points 
out the gradation of movements which takes place among the molecula 
of bodies when they either conserve or change their figure. Hence we 
may consider the form of any quality in body as something convertible 
with that quality, i.e., when it exists the quality is present, and vice versa. 
In this sense, the form of a thing differs only from its efficient cause in 
being permanent, whereas we apply cause to that which exists in order 
of time. The latens processus and latens schematismus are subordinate 
to form, as concrete exemplifications of its essence. The former is the 
secret and invisible process by which change is effected, and involves 
2 2g 



450 NOVUM OKGANUM. [BOOK II, 

III. He who lias learnt the cause of a particular nature (such. 
as whiteness or heat), in particular subjects only, has acquired 
but an imperfect knowledge : as he who can induce a certain 
effect upon particular substances only, among those which are 
susceptible of it, has acquired but an imperfect power. But he 
who has only learnt the efficient and material cause (which 
causes are variable and mere vehicles conveying form to parti- 
cular substances) may perhaps arrive at some new discoveries in 
matters of a similar nature, and prepared for the purpose, but 
does not stir the limits of things which are much more deeply 
rooted : whilst he who is acquainted with forms, comprehends 
the unity of nature in substances apparently most distinct from 
each other. He can disclose and bring forward, therefore, 
(though it has never yet been done) things which neither the 
vicissitudes of nature, nor the industry of experiment, nor chance 
itself, would ever have brought about, and which would for ever 
have escaped man's thoughts ; from the discovery of forms, 
therefore, results genuine theory and free practice. 

IY. Although there is a most intimate connection, and almost 
an identity between the ways of human power and human 
knowledge, yet, on account of the pernicious and inveterate habit 
of dwelling upon abstractions, it is by far the safest method to 
commence and build up the sciences from those foundations 
which bear a relation to the practical division, and to let them 
mark out and limit the theoretical. We must consider, there- 
fore, what precepts, or what direction or guide, a person would 
most desire, in order to generate and superinduce any nature 
upon a given body : and this not in abstruse, but in the plainest 
language. 

For instance, if a person should wish to superinduce the yellow 
colour of gold upon silver, or an additional weight (observing 
always the laws of matter) or transparency on an opaque stone, 
or tenacity in glass, or vegetation on a substance which is not 

the principle since called the law of continuity. Thus, the succession 
of events between the application of the match to the expulsion of the 
bullet is an instant of latent progress which we can now trace with 
some degree of accuracy. It also more directly refers to the operation 
by which one form or condition of being is induced upon another. For 
example, when the surface of iron becomes rusty, or when water is con- 
verted into steam, some change has taken place, or latent process from 
one form to another. Mechanics afford many exemplifications of the 
first latent process we have denoted, and chemistry of the second. 
The latens schematismus is that visible structure of bodies on which so 
many of their properties depend. When we inquire into the consti- 
tution of crystals, and into the internal structure of plants, we are 
examining into their latent schematism. Ed, 



BOOK II.] APHORISMS. 451 

vegetable, we must (I say) consider what species of precept or 
guide this person would prefer. And firstly, he will doubtless be 
anxious to be shown some method that will neither fail in effect, 
nor deceive him in the trial of it ; secondly, he will be anxious 
that the prescribed method should not restrict him and tie him 
down to peculiar means, and certain particular methods of acting ; 
for he will, perhaps, be at loss, and without the power or oppor- 
tunity of collecting and procuring such means. Now if there be 
other means and methods (besides those prescribed) of creating 
such a nature, they will perhaps be of such a kind as are in his 
power, yet by the confined limits of the precept he will be de- 
prived of reaping any advantage from them ; thirdly, he will be 
anxious to be shown something not so difficult as the required 
effect itself, but approaching more nearly to practice. 

We will lay this down, therefore, as the genuine and perfect 
rule of practice, that it should be certain, free, and preparatory, 
or having relation to practice. And this is the same thing as the 
discovery of a true form ; for the form of any nature is such, 
that when it is assigned the particular nature infallibly follows. 
It is, therefore, always present when that nature is present, and 
universally attests such presence, and is inherent in the whole of 
it. The same form is of such a character, that if it be removed 
the particular nature infallibly vanishes. It is, therefore, absent, 
whenever that nature is absent, and perpetually testifies such 
absence, and exists in no other nature. Lastly, the true form is 
such, that it deduces the particular nature from some source of 
essence existing in many subjects, and more known (as they 
term it) to nature, than the form itself. Such, then, is our 
determination and rule with regard to a genuine and perfect 
theoretical axiom, that a nature be found convertible with a given 
nature, and yet such as to limit the more known nature, in the 
manner of a real genus. But these two rules, the practical and 
theoretical, are in fact the same, and that which is most useful 
in practice is most correct in theory. 

V. But the rule or axiom for the transformation of bodies is 
of two kinds. The first regards the body as an aggregate or 
combination of simple natures. Thus, in gold are united the 
following circumstances : it is yellow, heavy, of a certain weight, 
malleable and ductile to a certain extent ; it is not volatile, loses 
part of its substance by fire, melts in a particular manner, is 
separated and dissolved by particular methods, and so of the 
other natures observable in gold. An axiom, therefore, of this 
kind deduces the subject from the forms of simple natures ; for 
he who has acquired the forms and methods of superinducing 
yellowness, weight, ductility, stability, deliquescence, solution, 
and the like, and their degrees and modes, will consider and 

2g2 



452 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK II. 

contrive iiow to unite tliem in any body, so as to transform f it 
into gold. And this method of operating belongs to primary 
action ; for it is the same thing to produce one or many simple 
natures, except that man is more confined and restricted in his 
operations, if many be required, on account of the difficulty of 
uniting many natures together. It must, however, be observed, 
that this method of operating (which considers natures as simple 
though in a concrete body) sets out from what is constant, eternal, 
and universal in nature, and opens such broad paths to human 
power, as the thoughts of man can in the present state of things 
scarcely comprehend or figure to itself. 

The second kind of axiom (which depends on the discovery of 
the latent process) does not proceed by simple natures, but by 
concrete bodies, as they are found in nature and in its usual 
course. For instance, suppose the inquiry to be, from what 
beginnings, in what manner, and by what process gold or any 
metal or stone is generated from the original menstruum, or its 
elements, up to the perfect mineral : or, in like manner, by what 
process plants are generated, from the first concretion of juices 
in the earth, or from seeds, up to the perfect plant, with the 
whole successive motion, and varied and uninterrupted efforts of 
nature ; and the same inquiry be made as to a regularly deduced 
system of the generation of animals from coition to birth, and so 
on of other bodies. 

JSTor is this species of inquiry confined to the mere generation 
of bodies, but it is applicable to other changes and labours of 
nature. For instance, where an inquiry is made into the whole 
series and continued operation of the nutritive process, from the 
first reception of the food to its complete assimilation to the re- 
cipient ; s or into the voluntary motion of animals, from the first 
impression of the imagination, and the continuous effects of the 
spirits, up to the bending and motion of the joints ; or into the 
free motion of the tongue and lips, and other accessories which 
give utterance to articulate sounds. For all these investigations 
relate to concrete or associated natures artificially brought 
together, and take into consideration certain particular and 
special habits of nature, and not those fundamental and general 
laws which constitute forms. It must, however, be plainly 
owned, that this method appears more prompt and easy, and of 
greater promise than the primary one. 

In like manner the operative branch, which answers to this 

f By the recent discoveries in electric magnetism, copper wires, or, 
indeed, wires of any metal, may be transformed into magnets; the 
magnetic law, or form, having been to that extent discovered. 

£ Haller has pursued this investigation in his " Physiology," and has 
left his successors little else to do than repeat his discoveries. Ed. 



BOOK II.] APHORISMS. 453 

contemplative branch, extends and advances its operation from 
that which is usually observed in nature, to other subjects 
immediately connected with it, or not very remote from such 
immediate connexion. But the higher and radical operations 
upon nature depend entirely on the primary axioms. Besides, 
even where man has not the means oi acting, but only of acquir- 
ing knowledge, as in astronomy (for man cannot act upon, 
change, or transform the heavenly bodies), the investigation of 
facts or truth, as well as the knowledge of causes and co- 
incidences, must be referred to those primary and universal 
axioms that regard simple natures ; such as the nature of spon- 
taneous rotation, attraction, or the magnetic force, and many 
others which are more common than the heavenly bodies them- 
selves. For let no one hope to determine the question whether 
the earth or heaven revolve in the diurnal motion, unless he 
have first comprehended the nature of spontaneous rotation. 

VI. But the latent process of which we speak, is far from 
being obvious to men's minds, beset as they now are. For we 
mean not the measures, symptoms, or degrees of any process 
which can be exhibited in the bodies themselves, but simply a 
continued process, which, for the most part, escapes the observa- 
tion of the senses. 

For instance, in all generations and transformations of bodies, 
we must inquire, what is in the act ot being lost and escaping, 
what remains, what is being added, what is being diluted, what 
is being contracted, what is being united, what is being separated, 
what is continuous, what is broken off, what is urging forward, 
what impedes, what predominates, what is subservient, and 
many other circumstances. 

Nor are these inquiries again to be made in the mere genera- 
tion and transformation of bodies only, but in all other alterations 
and fluctuations, we must in like manner inquire ; what pre- 
cedes, what succeeds, what is quick, what is slow, what produces 
and what governs motion, and the like. All which matters are 
unknown and unattempted by the sciences, in their present 
heavy and inactive state. For, since every natural act is brought 
about by the smallest efforts, 11 or, at least, such as are too small 
to strike our senses, let no one hope that he will be able to direct 
or change nature unless he have properly comprehended and 
observed these efforts. 

VII. In like manner, the investigation and discovery of the 
latent conformation in bodies is no less new, than the discovery 
of the latent process and form. For we as yet are doubtless 

h Bacon here first seems pregnant with the important development 
of the higher calculus, which, in the hands of Newton and Descartes, 
was to effect as great a revolution in philosophy as his method. Ed. 



454 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK H. 

only admitted to the ante- chamber of nature, and do not prepare 
an entrance into her presence-room. But nobody can endue a 
given body with a new nature, or transform it successfully and 
appropriately into a new body, without possessing a complete 
knowledge of the body so to be changed or transformed. For 
he will run into vain, or, at least, into difficult and perverse 
methods, ill adapted to the nature of the body upon which 
he operates. A clear path, therefore, towards this object also 
must be thrown open, and well supported. 

Labour is well and usefully bestowed upon the anatomy of 
organized bodies, such as those of men and animals, which 
appears to be a subtile matter, and an useful examination of 
nature. The species of anatomy, however, is that of first sight, 
open to the senses, and takes place only in organized bodies. It 
is obvious, and of ready access, when compared with the real 
anatomy of latent conformation in bodies which are considered 
similar, particularly in specific objects and their parts ; as those 
of iron, stone, and the similar parts of plants and animals, as the 
root, the leaf, the flower, the flesh, the blood, and bones, &c. 
Yet human industry has not completely neglected this species of 
anatomy ; for we have an instance of it in the separation of 
similar bodies by distillation, and other solutions, which shows 
the dissimilarity of the compound by the union of the homo- 
geneous parts. These methods are useful, and of importance to 
our inquiry, although attended generally with fallacy : for many 
natures are assigned and attributed to the separate bodies, as if 
they had previously existed in the compound, which, in reality, 
are recently bestowed and superinduced by fire and heat, and 
the other modes of separation. Besides, it is, after all, but a 
small part of the labour of discovering the real conformation in 
the compound, which is so subtile and nice, that it is rather con- 
fused and lost by the operation of the fire, than discovered and 
brought to light. 

A separation and solution of bodies, therefore, is to be effected, 
not by fire indeed, but rather by reasoning and true induction, 
with the assistance of experiment, and by a comparison with 
other bodies, and a reduction to those simple natures and their 
forms which meet, and are combined in the compound ; and we 
must assuredly pass from Vulcan to Minerva, if we wish to 
bring to light the real texture and conformation of bodies, upon 
which every occult and (as it is sometimes called) specific pro- 
perty and virtue of things depends, and whence also every rule 
of powerful change and transformation is deduced. 

For instance, we must examine what spirit is in every body, 1 
what tangible assence ; whether that spirit is copious and ex- 

1 By spirit, Bacon here plainly implies material fluid too fine to be 
grasped by the unassisted sense, which rather operates than reasons. 



BOOK II.] APHORISMS. 4:55 

uberant, or meagre and scarce, fine or coarse, aeriform or 
igniform, active or sluggish, weak or robust, progressive or 
retrograde, abrupt or continuous, agreeing with external and 
surrounding objects, or differing from them, &c. In like manner 
must we treat tangible essence (which admits of as many dis- 
tinctions as the spirit), and its hairs, fibres, and varied texture. 
Again, the situation of the spirit in the corporeal mass, its pores, 
passages, veins, and cells, and the rudiments or first essays of 
the organic bod}', are subject to the same examination. In these, 
however, as in our former inquiries, and therefore in the whole 
investigation of latent conformation, the only genuine and clear 
light which completely dispels all darkness and subtile difficulties, 
is admitted by means of the primary axioms. 

VIII. This method will not bring us to atoms, k which takes 
for granted the vacuum, and immutability of matter (neither of 
which hypotheses is correct), but to the real particles such as we 
discover them to be. JN"or is there any ground for alarm at this 
refinement as if it were inexplicable, for, on the contrary, the 
more inquiry is directed to simple natures, the more will every- 
thing be placed in a plain and perspicuous light, since we transfer 
our attention from the complicated to the simple, from the in- 
commensurable to the commensurable, from surds to rational 
quantities, from the indefinite and vague to the definite and 
certain ; as when we arrive at the elements of letters, and the 
simple tones of concords. The investigation of nature is best 
conducted when mathematics are applied to physics. Again, let 
none be alarmed at vast numbers and fractions, for in calculation 
it is as easy to set down or to reflect upon a thousand as 
an unit, or the thousandth part of an integer as an integer 
itself. 

IX. 1 From the two kinds of axioms above specified, arise the 

"We sometimes adopt the same mode of expression, as in the words 
spirits of nitre, spirits of wine. Some such agency has been assumed by 
nearly all the modern physicists, a few of whom, along with Bacon, 
would leave us to gather from their expressions, that they believe such 
bodies endowed with the sentient powers of perception. As another 
specimen of his sentiment on this subject, we may refer to a paragraph 
on the decomposition of compounds, in his essay on death, beginning — 
" The spirit which exists in all living bodies, keeps all the parts in due 
subjection ; when it escapes, the body decomposes, or the similar parts 
unite." Ed. 

k The theory of the Epicureans and others. The atoms are supposed 
to be invisible, inalterable particles, endued with all the properties of 
the given body, and forming that body by their union. They must be 
separated, of course, which either takes a vacuum for granted, or intro- 
duces a tertium quid into the composition of the body. 

1 Compare the three following aphorisms with the three last chapters 
of the third book of the " De Augmentis Scientiarunx," 



456 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK II. 

two divisions of philosophy and the sciences, and we will use the 
commonly adopted terms which approach the nearest to our 
meaning, in our own sense. Let the investigation of forms, 
which (in reasoning at least, and after their own laws), are 
eternal and immutable, constitute metaphysics." 1 and let the in- 
vestigation of the efficient cause of matter, latent process, and 
latent conformation (which all relate merely to the ordinary 
course of nature, and not to her fundamental and eternal laws), 
constitute physics. Parallel to these, let there be two practical 
divisions ; to physics that of mechanics, and to metaphysics that 
of magic, in the purest sense of the term, as applied to its ample 
means, and its command over nature. 

X. The object of our philosophy being thus laid down, we 
proceed to precepts, in the most clear and regular order. The 
signs for the interpretation of nature comprehend two divisions, 
the first regards the eliciting or creating of axioms from experi- 
ment, the second the deducing or deriving of new experiments 
from axioms. The first admits of three subdivisions into minis- 
trations 1. To the senses. 2. To the memory. 3. To the 
mind or reason. 

Eor we must first prepare as a foundation for the whole, a 
complete and accurate natural and experimental history. We 
must not imagine or invent, but discover the acts and properties 
of nature. 

m Bacon gives this unfortunate term its proper signification ; pera, in 
composition, with the Greeks signifying change or mutation. Most of 
our readers, no doubt, are aware that the obtrusion of this word into 
technical philosophy was purely capricious, and is of no older date than 
the publication of Aristotle's works by Andronicus of Rhodes, one of 
the learned men into whose hands the manuscripts of that philosopher 
fell, after they were brought by Sylla from Athens to Home. To four- 
teen books in these MSS. with no distinguishing title, Andronicus is 
said to have prefixed the words ra juera ra (pvaiica, to denote the place 
which they ought to hold either in the order of Aristotle's arrangement, 
or in that of study. These books treat first of those subjects which are 
common to matter and mind ; secondly, of things separate from matter, 
i. e. of God, and of the subordinate spirits, which were supposed by the 
Peripatetics to watch over particular portions of the universe. The 
followers of Aristotle accepted the whimsical title of Andronicus, and 
in their usual manner allowed a word to unite things into one science, 
which were plainly heterogeneous. Their error was adopted by the 
Peripatetics of the Christian Church. The schoolmen added to the notion 
of ontology, the science of the mind, or pneumatology, and as that genus 
of being has since become extinct with the schools, metaphysics thus in 
modern parlance comes to be synonymous with psychology. It were to 
be wished that Bacon's definition of the term had been accepted, and 
mental science delivered from one of the greatest monstrosities in 
its nomenclature, yet Bacon whimsically enough in his De Augment] s 
includes mathematics in metaphysics. Ed, 



BOOK II.] APHORISMS. 457 

But natural and experimental history is so varied and diffuse, 
that it confounds and distracts the understanding unless it be 
fixed and exhibited in due order. We must, therefore, form 
tables and co-ordinations of instances, upon such a plan, and in 
such order, that the understanding may be enabled to act upon 
them. 

Even when this is done, the understanding, left to itself and 
to its own operation, is incompetent and unfit to construct its 
axioms without direction and support. Our third ministration, 
therefore, must be true and legitimate induction, the very key of 
interpretation. We must begin, however, at the end, and go 
back again to the others. 

XI. The investigation of forms proceeds thus : a nature being 
given, we must first present to the understanding all the known 
instances which agree in the same nature, although the subject 
matter be considerably diversified. And this collection must be 
made as a mere history, and without any premature reflection, or 
too great degree of refinement. For instance ; take the investi- 
gation of the form of heat. 

Instances agreeing in the Form of Heat. 

1. The rays of the sun, particularly in summer, and at noon. 

2. The same reflected and condensed, as between mountains, 
or along walls, and particularly in burning mirrors. 

3. Ignited meteors. 

4. Burning lightning. 

5. Eruptions of names from the cavities of mountains, &c. 

6. Elame of every kind. 

7. Ignited solids. 

8. Natural warm baths. 

9. Warm or heated liquids. 

10. Warm vapours and smoke ; and the air itself, which 
admits a most powerful and violent heat if confined, as in rever- 
berating furnaces. 

11. Damp hot weather, arising from the constitution of the 
air, without any reference to the time of the year. 

12. Confined and subterraneous air in some caverns, parti- 
cularly in winter. 

13. All shaggy substances, as wool, the skins of animals, and 
the plumage of birds, contain some heat. 

14. All bodies, both solid and liquid, dense and rare (as the 
air itself), placed near fire for any time. 

15. Sparks arising from the violent percussion of flint and 
steel. 

16. All bodies rubbed violently, as stone, wood, cloth, &c, so 
that rudders, and axles of wheels, sometimes catch fire, and the 
West Indians obtain fire by attrition. 

17. Green and moist vegetable matter confined and rubbed 



458 NOVUxAI OliGANUM. [BOOK II. 

together, as roses, peas in baskets ; so hay, if it be damp when 
stacked, often catches fire. 

18. Quick lime sprinkled with water. 

19. Iron, when first dissolved by acids in a glass, and with- 
out any application to fire ; the same of tin, but not so in- 
tensely. 

20. Animals, particularly internally ; although the heat is 
not perceivable by the touch in insects, on account ot their 
small size. 

21. Horse dung, and the like excrement from other animals, 
when fresh. 

22. Strong oil of sulphur and of vitriol exhibit the operation 
of heat in burning linen. 

23. As does the oil of marjoram, and like substances, in burn- 
ing the bony substance of the teeth. 

24 Strong and well rectified spirits of wine exhibit the same 
effects ; so that white of eggs when thrown into it grows hard 
and white, almost in the same manner as when boiled, and bread 
becomes burnt and brown as if toasted. 

25. Aromatic substances and warm plants, as the dracunculus 
[arum], old nasturtium, &c, which, though they be not warm to 
the touch (whether whole or pulverized), yet are discovered by 
the tongue and palate to be warm and almost burning when 
slightly masticated. 

26. Strong vinegar and all acids, on any part of the body not 
clothed with the epidermis, as the eye, tongue, or any wounded 
part, or where the skin is removed, excite a pain differing but 
little from that produced by heat. 

27. Even a severe and intense cold produces a sensation of 
burning. 11 

" Nee Boreae penetrabile frigus adurit." 

28. Other instances. 

We are wont to call this a table of existence and presence. 

XII. We must next present to the understanding instances 
which do not admit of the given nature, for form (as we have 
observed) ought no less to be absent where the given nature is 
absent, than to be present where it is present. If, however, we 
were to examine every instance, our labour would be infinite. 

Negatives, therefore, must be classed under the affirmatives, 
and the want of the given nature must be inquired into more 
particularly in objects which have a very close connection with 
those others in which it is present and manifest. And this we 
are wont to term a table of deviation or of absence in proximity. 

n " Ne tenues pluvise, rapidive potentia solis 

Acrior, aut Boreas penetrabile frigus adurat." 

Virg. Georg. i. 92, 93. 



EOOX II.] APHORISMS. 459 

Proximate Instances wanting the Nature oj Heat. 

The rays of the moon, stars, and comets, are not found to be 
warm to the touch, nay, the severest cold has been observed to 
take place at the full of the moon. Yet the larger fixed stars are 
supposed to increase and render more intense the heat of the 
sun, as he approaches them, when the sun is in the sign of the 
lion for instance, and in the dog-days.° 

The rays of the sun in what is called the middle region of the 
air give no heat, to account for which the commonly assigned 
reason is satisfactory ; namely, that that region is neither suffi- 
ciently near to the body of the sun whence the rays emanate, 
nor to the earth whence they are reflected. And the fact is 
manifested by snow being perpetual on the tops of mountains, 
unless extremely lofty. But it is observed on the other hand by 
some, that at the Peak of TenerifFe, and also among the Andes of 
Peru, the tops of the mountains are free from snow, which only 
lies in the lower part as you ascend. Besides, the air on the 
summit of these mountains is found to be by no means cold, but 
only thin and sharp ; so much so, that in the Andes it pricks and 
hurts the eyes from its extreme sharpness, and even excites the 
orifice of the stomach and produces vomiting. The ancients 
also observed, that the rarity of the air on the summit of Olympus 
was such, that those who ascended it were obliged to carry sponges 
moistened with vinegar and water, and to apply them now and 
then to their nostrils, as the air was not dense enough for their 
respiration ; on the summit of which mountain it is also related, 
there reigned so great a serenity and calm, free from rain, snow, 
or wind, that the letters traced upon the ashes of the sacrifices 
on the altar of Jupiter, by the finders of those who had offered 
them, would remain undisturbed till the next year. Those even, 
who at this day go to the top of the Peak of Teneriffe, walk by 
night and not in the day-time, and are advised and pressed by 
their guides, as soon as the sun rises, to make haste in their 
descent, on account of the danger (apparently arising from the 
rarity of the atmosphere), lest their breathing should be relaxed 
and suffocated. p 

° This notion, which he repeats again, and particularizes in the 
18th aph. of this book, is borrowed from the ancients, and we need not 
say is as wise as their other astronomical conjectures. The sun also 
approaches stars quite as large in other quarters of the zodiac, when it 
looks down upon the earth through the murky clouds of winter. When 
that luminary is in Leo, the heat of the earth is certainly greater than 
at any other period, but this arises from the accumulation ot heat after 
the solstice, for the same reason that the maximum heat oi the day is at 
two o'clock instead of noon. Ed. 

v Bouguer, employed by Louis XIY. in philosophical researches, 



460 KOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK II. 

The reflection of the solar rays in the polar regions is found to 
be weak and inefficient in producing heat, so that the Dutch, who 
wintered in Nova Zembla, and expected that their vessel would 
be freed about the beginning of July from the obstruction of the 
mass of ice which had blocked it up, were disappointed and 
obliged to embark in their boat. Hence the direct rays of the 
sun appear to have but little power even on the plain, and when 
reflected, unless they are multiplied and condensed, which takes 
place when the sun tends more to the perpendicular ; for, then, 
the incidence of the rays occurs at more acute angles, so that the 
reflected rays are nearer to each other, whilst, on the contrary, 
when the sun is in a very oblique position, the angles of incidence 
are very obtuse, and the reflected rays at a greater distance. In 
the mean time it must be observed, that there may be many 
operations of the solar rays, relating, too, to the nature of heat, 
which are not proportioned to our touch, so that, with regard to 
us, they do not tend to produce warmth, but, with regard to 
some other bodies, have their due effect in producing it. 

Let the following experiment be made. Take a lens the re- 
verse of a burning glass, and place it between the hand and the 
solar rays, and observe whether it diminish the heat of the sun 
as a burning glass increases it. For it is clear, with regard to 
the visual rays, that in proportion as the lens is made of unequal 
thickness in the middle and at its sides, the images appear either 
more diffused or contracted. It should be seen, therefore, if the 
same be true with regard to heat. 

Let the experiment be well tried, whether the lunar rays can 
be received and collected by the strongest and best burning 
glasses, so as to produce even the least degree of heat. q But if 
that degree be, perhaps, so subtile and weak, as not to be per- 
ceived or ascertained by the touch, we must have recourse to 
those glasses which indicate the warm or cold state of the atmos- 
phere, and let the lunar rays fall through the burning glass on 

ascended the Andes to discover the globular form of the earth, and pub- 
lished an account of his passage, which verifies the statement of Bacon. 
* Montanari asserts in his book against the astrologers that he had 
satisfied himself by numerous and oft-repeated experiments, that the 
lunar rays gathered to a focus produced a sensible degree of heat. 
Muschenbrock, however, adopts the opposite opinion, and asserts that 
himself, De la Hire, Villet, and Tschirnhausen had tried with that view 
the strongest burning-glasses in vain. (Opera de Igne.) De la Lande 
makes a similar confession in his Astronomy (vol. ii. vii. § 1413). Bouguer, 
whom we have just quoted, demonstrated that the light oi the moon was 
300,000 degrees less than that oi the sun : it would consequently be 
necessary to invent a glass with an absorbing power 300,000 degrees 
greater than those ordinarily in use, to try the experiment Bacon 
speaks oi. Ed. 



BOOK II.] APHORISMS. 4G1 

the top of tliis thermometer, and then notice if the water be 
depressed by the heat/ 

Let the burning glass be tried on warm objects which emit no 
luminous rays, as heated but not ignited iron or stone, or hot 
water, or the like ; and observe whether the heat become in- 
creased and condensed, as happens with the solar rays. 

Let it be tried on common name. 

The effect oi' comets (if we can reckon them amongst meteors 8 ) 
in augmenting the heat of the season is not found to be constant 
or clear, although droughts have generally been observed to 
follow them. However, luminous lines, and pillars, and openings, 
and the like, appear more often in winter than in summer, and 
especially with the most intense cold but joined with drought. 
Lightning, and coruscations, and thunder, however, rarely hap- 
pen in winter, and generally at the time of the greatest heats. 
The appearances we term falling stars are generally supposed to 
consist of some shining and inflamed viscous substance, rather than 
of violently hot matter ; but let this be further investigated. 

Some coruscations emit light without burning, but are never 
accompanied by thunder. 

Eructations and eruptions of flame are to be found in cold 
climates as well as in hot, as in Iceland and Greenland ; iust as 
the trees of cold countries are sometimes inflammable ana more 
pitchy and resinous than in warm, as the fir, pine, and the like. 
jBut the position and nature of the soil, where such eruptions are 

r In this thermometer, mercury was not dilated by heat or contracted 
by cold, as the one now in use, but a mass of air employed instead, which 
filled the cavity of the bulb. This being placed in an inverted position to 
ours, that is to say, with the bulb uppermost, pressed down the liquor 
when the air became dilated by heat, as ours press it upward ; and when 
the heat diminished, the liquor rose to occupy the place vacated by the 
air, as the one now in use descends. It consequently was liable to be 
affected by a change in the temperature, as by the weight ol air, and 
could afford only a rude standard of accuracy in scientific investigations. 
This thermometer was not Bacon's own contrivance, as is commonly 
supposed, but that of Drebbel. Ed. 

s Lalande is indignant that the Chaldeans should have more correct 
notions of the nature of comets than the modern physicists, and charges 
Bacon with entertaining the idea that they were the mere effects of 
vapour and heat. This passage, with two others more positive, in the 
" De Aug." (cap. xl.) and the "Descript. Globi Intellect." (cap. vi.) 
certainly afford ground for the assertion ; but if Bacon erred, he erred 
with Galileo, and with the foremost spirits of the times. It is true 
that Pythagoras and Seneca had asserted their belief in the solidity of 
these bodies, but the wide dominion which Aristotle subsequently 
exercised, threw their opinions into the shade, and made the opposite 
doctrine everywhere paramount. Ed. 



462 NOVUM ORGANUM. [EOOK II. 

wont to happen, is not yet sufficiently investigated to enable us 
to subjoin a negative instance to the affirmative. 

All flame is constantly more or less warm, and this instance is 
not altogether negative ; yet it is said that the ignis fatuus (as 
it is called), and which sometimes is driven agamst walls, has 
but little heat ; perhaps it resembles that of spirits of wine, 
which is mild and gentle. That flame, however, appears yet 
milder, which in some well authenticated and serious histories is 
said to have appeared round the head and hair of boys and vir- 
gins, and instead of burning their hair, merely to have played 
about it. And it is most certain that a sort of flash, without any 
evident heat, has sometimes been seen about a horse when 
sweating at night, or in damp weather. It is also a well known 
fact,* and it was almost considered as a miracle, that a few years 
since a girl's apron sparkled when a little shaken or rubbed, 
which was, perhaps, occasioned by the alum or salts with which 
the apron was imbued, and which, after having been stuck 
together and incrusted rather strongly, were broken by the fric- 
tion. It is well known that all sugar, whether candied or plain, 
if it be hard, will sparkle when broken or scraped in the dark. 
In like manner sea and salt water is sometimes found to shine at 
night when struck violently by the oar. The foam of the sea 
when agitated by tempests also sparkles at night, and the Spa- 
niards call this appearance the sea's lungs. It has not been 
sufficiently ascertained what degree of heat attends the flame 
which the ancient sailors called Castor and Pollux, and the 
moderns call St. Ermus' fire. 

Every ignited body that is red-hot is always warm, although 
without flame, nor is any negative instance subjoined to this 
affirmative. Eotten wood, however, approaches nearly to it, for 
it shines at night, and yet is not found to be warm ; and the 
putrefying scales of fish which shine in the same manner are not 
warm to the touch, nor the body of the glowworm, or of the fly 
called Lucciola. u 

v The situation and nature of the soil of natural warm baths has 
not been sufficiently investigated, and therefore a negative in- 
stance is not subjoined. 

To the instances of warm liquids we may subjoin the negative 
one of the peculiar nature of liquids in general ; for no tangible 
liquid is known that is at once warm in its nature and constantly 
continues warm ; but their heat is only superinduced as an 
adventitious nature for a limited time, so that those which are 
extremely warm in their power and effect, as spirits of wine, 
chemical aromatic oils, the oils of vitriol and sulphur, and the 

1 Was it a silk apron which exhibited electric sparks ? Silk was then 
scarce. u The Italian fire-fly. 



BOOK II. J APHORISMS. 483 

like, and which speedily burn, are yet cold at first to the touch, 
and the water of natural baths, poured into any vessel and sepa- 
rated from its source, cools down like water heated by the fire. 
It is, however, true that oily substances are rather less cold to 
the touch than those that are aqueous, oil for instance than 
water, silk than linen ; but this belongs to the table of degrees 
of cold. 

In like manner we may subjoin a negative instance to that of 
warm vapour, derived from the nature of vapour itself, as far as 
we are acquainted with it. For exhalations from oily substances, 
though easily inflammable, are yet never warm unless recently 
exhaled from some warm substance. 

The same may be said of the instance of air ; for we never per- 
ceive that air is warm unless confined or pressed, or manifestly 
heated by the sun, by fire, or some other warm body. 

A negative instance is exhibited in weather by its coldness 
with an east or north wind, beyond what the season would lead 
us to expect, just as the contrary takes place with the south or 
west winds. An inclination to rain (especially in winter) attends 
warms weather, and to frost cold weather. 

A negative instance as to air confined in caverns may be ob- 
served in summer. Indeed, we should make a mors diligent 
inquiry into the nature of confined air. For in the first place the 
qualities of air in its own nature with regard to heat and cold 
may reasonably be the subject of doubt ; for air evidently derives 
its heat from the effects of celestial bodies, and possibly its cold 
from the exhalation of the earth, and in the mid region of air 
(as it is termed) from cold vapours and snow, so that no judg- 
ment can be formed of the nature of air by that which is out of 
doors and exposed, but a more correct one might be derived from 
confined air. It is necessary, however, that the air should be 
enclosed in a vessel of such materials as would not imbue it 
with heat or cold of themselves, nor easily admit the influence 
of the external atmosphere. The experiment should be made 
therefore with an earthen jar, covered with folds of leather to 
protect it from the external air. and the air should be kept three 
or four days in this vessel well closed. On opening the jar, the 
degree of heat may be ascertained either by the hand or a gra- 
duated glass tube. 

There is a similar doubt as to whether the warmth of wool, 
skins, feathers, and the like, is derived from a slight inherent 
heat, since they are animal excretions, or from their being of a 
certain fat and oily nature that accords with heat, or merely 
from the confinement and separation of air which we spoke of in 
the preceding paragraph ; x for all air appears to possess a cer- 

x This Last is found to be the real reason, air not being a good con- 



464 NOVUM OEGANUM. [BOOK II. 

tain degree of warmth when separated from the external atmos- 
phere. Let an experiment be made, therefore with fibrous sub- 
stances of linen, and not of wool, feathers, or silk, which are 
animal excretions. For it is to be observed that all powders 
(where air is manifestly enclosed) are less cold than the sub- 
stances when whole, just as we imagine froth (which contains air) 
to be less cold than the liquid itself. 

We have here no exactly negative instance, for we are not 
acquainted with any body tangible or spirituous which does not 
admit of heat when exposed to the fire. There is, however, this 
difference, that some admit it more rapidly, as air, oil, and water, 
others more slowly, as stone and metals. 7 This, however, belongs 
to the table of degrees. 

No negative is here subjoined, except the remark that sparks 
are not kindled by flint and steel, or any other hard substance, 
unless some small particles of the stone or metal are struck off, 
and that the air never forms them by friction, as is commonly 
supposed ; besides, the sparks from the weight of the ignited 
substance, have a tendency to descend rather than to rise, and 
when extinguished becomes a sort of dark ash. 

We are of opinion that here again there is no negative ; for 
we are not acquainted with any tangible body which does not 
become decidedly warm by friction, so that the ancients feigned 
that the gods had no other means or power of creating heat 
than the friction of air, by rapid and violent rotation. On this 
point, however, further inquiry must be made, whether bodies 
projected by machines (as balls from cannon) do not derive some 
degree of heat from meeting the air, which renders them some- 
what warm when they fall. The air in motion rather cools than 
heats, as in the winds, the bellows, or breath when the mouth is 
contracted. The motion, however, in such instances is not suffi- 
ciently rapid to excite heat, and is applied to a body of air, and 
not to its component parts, so that it is not surprising that heat 
should not be generated. 

We must make a more diligent inquiry into this instance ; for 
herbs and green and moist vegetables appear to possess a latent 
heat, so small, however, as not to be perceived by the touch in 
single specimens, but when they are united and confined, so that 
their spirit cannot exhale into the air, and they rather warm each 
other, their heat is at once manifested, and even flame occasion- 
ally in suitable substances. 

ductor, and therefore not allowing the escape of heat. The confined 
air is disengaged when these substances are placed under an exhausted 
receiver. 

y This is erroneous. Air, in fact, is one of the worst, and metals 
are the best conductors of heat. 



BOOK II.] APHORISMS. 465 

Here, too, we must make a more diligent inquiry ; for quick 
lime, when sprinkled with, water, appears to conceive neat, either 
from its being collected into one point (as we observed of herbs 
when confined), or from the irritation and exasperation of the 
fiery spirit by water, which occasions a conflict and struggle. 
The true reason will more readily be shown if oil be used instead 
of water, for oil will equally tend to collect the confined spirit, 
but not to irritate. The experiment may be made more general, 
both by using the ashes and calcined products of different bodies 
and by pouring different liquids upon them. 

A negative instance may be subjoined of other metals which 
are more soft and soluble ; for leaf gold dissolved by aqua regia, 
or lead by aqua fortis, are not warm to the touch whilst dis- 
solving, no more is quicksilver (as far as I remember), but silver 
excites a slight heat, and so does copper, and tin yet more 
plainly, and most of all iron and steel, which excite not only a 
powerful heat, but a violent bubbling. The heat, therefore, 
appears to be occasioned by the struggle which takes place when 
these strong dissolvents penetrate, dig into, and tear asunder 
the parts of those substances, whilst the substances themselves 
resist. When, however, the substances yield more easily, scarcely 
any heat is excited. 

There is no negative instance with regard to the heat of ani- 
mals, except in insects (as has been observed), owing to their 
small size ; for in fishes, as compared with land animals, a lower 
degree rather than a deprivation of heat is observable. In plants 
and vegetables, both as to their exudations and pith when freshly 
exposed, there is no sensible degree of heat. But in animals 
there is a great difference in the degree, both in particular parts 
(for the heat varies near the heart, the brain, and the extre- 
mities) and in the circumstances in which they are placed, such 
as violent exercise and fevers. 

Here, again, there is scarcely a negative instance. I might 
add that the excrements of animals, even when they are no 
longer fresh, possess evidently some effective heat, as is shown 
by their enriching the soil. 

Such liquicls (whether oily or watery) as are intensely acrid 
exhibit the effects of heat, by the separation and burning of 
bodies after some little action upon them, yet they are not at 
first warm to the touch, but they act according to their affinity 
and the pores of the substances to which they are applied ; for 
aqua regia dissolves gold but not silver, — on the contrary, aqua 
fortis dissolves silver but not gold ; neither of them dissolves 
glass, and so of the rest. 

Let spirits of wine be tried on wood, or butter, wax, or pitch, 
to see if this will melt them at all by their heat ; for the twenty- 
fourth instance shows that they possess properties resembling 
2 2h 



466 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK IH 

those of heat in causing incrustation. Let an experiment also be 
made with a graduated glass or calendar, 2 concave at the top, by 
pouring well-rectified spirits of wine into the cavity, and covers 
ing it up in order that they may the better retain their heat, 
then observe whether their heat make the water descend. 

Spices and acrid herbs are sensibly warm to the palate, and 
still more so when taken internally; one should see, therefore, 
on what other substances they exhibit the effects of heat. Now, 
sailors tell us that when large quantities of spices are suddenly 
opened, after having been shut up for some time, there is some 
danger of fever and inflammation to those who stir them or take 
them out. An experiment might, therefore, be made whether 
such spices and herbs, when produced, will, like smoke, dry fish 
and meat hung up over them. 

There is an acrid effect and a degree of penetration in cold 
liquids, such as vinegar and oil of vitriol, as well as in warm, 
such as oil of marjoram and the like ; they have, therefore, an 
equal effect in causing animated substances to smart, and sepa- 
rating and consuming inanimate parts. There is not any nega- 
tive instance as to this, nor does there exist any animal pain 
unaccompanied by the sensation of heat. 

There are many effects common to cold and heat, however 
different in their process ; for snowballs appear to burn boys' 
hands after a little time, and cold no less than fire preserves 
bodies from putrefaction, — besides both heat and cold contract 
bodies. But it is better to refer these instances and the like to 
the investigation of cold. 

XIII. In the third place we must exhibit to the understand- 
ing the instances in which that nature, which is the object of 
our inquiries, is present in a greater or less degree, either by 
comparing its increase and decrease in the same object, or its 
degree in different objects ; for since the form of a thing is its 
very essence, and the thing only differs from its form as the 
apparent from the actual object, or the exterior from the interior, 
or that which is considered with relation to man from that which 
is considered with relation to the universe ; it necessarily follows 
that no nature can be considered a real form which does not 
uniformly diminish and increase with the given nature. We 
are wont to call this our Table of Degrees, or Comparative 
Instances. 

Table of the Degrees or Comparative Instances of Heat. 

We will first speak of those bodies which exhibit no degree of 
heat sensible to the touch, but appear rather to possess a poten- 
tial heat, or disposition and preparation for it. We will then go 

z See No. 38 in the table of the degrees of heat. 



BOOK II.] APHOKISttS. 467 

on to others, which are actually warm to the touch, and observe 
the strength and degree of it. 

1. There is no known solid or tangible body which is by its 
own nature originally warm ; for neither stone, metal, sulphur, 
fossils, wood, water, nor dead animal carcasses are found warm. 
The warm springs in baths appear to be heated accidentally, by 
flame, subterraneous fire (such as is thrown up by Etna and 
many other mountains), or by the contact of certain bodies, as 
heat is exhibited in the dissolution of iron and tin. The degree 
of heat, therefore, in inanimate objects is not sensible to our 
touch ; but they differ in their degrees of cold, for wood and 
metal are not equally cold. a This, however, belongs to the Table 
of Degrees of Cold. 

2. JBut with regard to potential heat and predisposition to 
flame, we find many inanimate substances wonderfully adapted 
to it, as sulphur, naphtha, and saltpetre. 

3. Bodies which have previously acquired heat, as horse-dung 
from the animal, or lime, and perhaps ashes and soot from fire, 
retain some latent portion of it. Hence distillations and separa* 
tions of substances are effected by burying them in horse-dung, 
and heat is excited in lime by sprinkling it with water (as has 
been before observed). 

4. In the vegetable world we know of no plant, nor part of 
any plant (as the exudations or pith) that is warm to man's 
touch. Yet (as we have before observed) green weeds grow 
warm when confined, and some vegetables are warm and others 
cold to our internal touch, i. e. the palate and stomach, or even 
after a while to our external skin (as is shown in plasters and 
ointments). 

5. We know of nothing in the various parts of animals, when 
dead or detached from the rest, that is warm to the touch ; for 
horse-dung itself does not retain its heat, unless it be confined 
and buried. All dung, however, appears to possess a potential 
heat, as in manuring fields ; so also dead bodies are endued with 
this latent and potential heat to such a degree, that in ceme- 
teries where people are interred daily the earth acquires a secret 
heat, which consumes any recently-deposited body much sooner 
than pure earth ; and they tell you that the people of the East 
are acquainted with a fine soft cloth, made of the down of birds, 
which can melt butter wrapped gently up in it by its own 
warmth. 

a Bacon here mistakes sensation confined to ourselves for an in- 
ternal property of distinct substances. Metals are denser than wood, 
and our bodies consequently coining into contact with more particles 
of matter when we touch them, lose a greater quantity of heat than 
in the case of lighter substances. Ed. 

2 h2 



468 NOVUM OPtGANUM. [BOOK II. 

6. Manures, such as every kind of dung, chalk, sea-sand, sali> 
and the like, have some disposition towards heat. 

7. All putrefaction exhibits some slight degree of heat, though 
not enough to be perceptible by the touch ; for neither the sub- 
stances which by putrefaction are converted into animalcula3, b as 
flesh and cheese, nor rotten wood which shines in the dark, are 
warm to the touch. The heat, however, of putrid substances 
displays itself occasionally in a disgusting and strong scent. 

8. The first degree of heat, therefore, in substances which are 
warm to the human touch appears to be that of animals, and this 
admits of a great variety of degrees, for the lowest (as in insects) 
is scarcely perceptible, the highest scarcely equals that of the 
sun's rays in warm climates and weather, and is not so acute as 
to be insufferable to the hand. It is said, however, of Constan- 
tius, and some others of a very dry constitution and habit of 
body, that when attacked with violent fevers, they became so 
warm as to appear almost to burn the hand applied to them. 

9. Animals become more warm by motion and exercise, wine 
and feasting, venery, burning fevers, and grief. 

10. In the paroxysm of intermittent fevers the patients are at 
first seized with cold and shivering, but soon afterwards become 
more heated than at first, — in burning and pestilential fevers 
they are hot from the beginning. 

11. Let further inquiry be made into the comparative heat of 
different animals, as fishes, quadrupeds, serpents, birds, and also 
of the different species, as the lion, the kite, or man ; for, accord- 
ing to the vulgar opinion, fishes are the least warm internally, 
and birds the most, particularly doves, hawks, and ostriches. 

12. Let further inquiry be made as to the comparative heat in 
different parts and limbs of the same animal ; for milk, blood, 
seed, and eggs are moderately warm, and less hot than the out- 
ward flesh of the animal when in motion or agitated. The degree 
of heat of the brain, stomach, heart, and the rest, has not yet 
been equally well investigated. 

13. All animals are externally cold in winter and cold weather, 
but are thought to be internally warmer. 

14. The heat of the heavenly bodies, even in the warmest 
climates and seasons, never reaches such a pitch as to light or 
burn the driest wood or straw, or even tinder without the aid of 
burning-glasses. It can, however, raise vapour from moist sub- 
stances. 

15. Astronomers tell us that some stars are hotter than others. 

b This was the ancient opinion, but the moderns incline to the 
belief that these insects are produced by generation or fecundity from 
seeds deposited by their tribes in bodies on the verge of putrefaction. 
Ed. 



BOOK II.] APHORISMS. 469 

Mars is considered the warmest after the Sun, then Jupiter, then 
Yenus. The Moon and, above all, Saturn, are considered to be 
cold. Among the fixed stars Sirius is thought the warmest, then 
Cor Leonis or Regulus, then the lesser Dog-star. 

16. The sun gives out more heat as it approaches towards the 
perpendicular or zenith, which may be supposed to be the case 
with the other planets, according to their degree of heat ; for 
instance, that Jupiter gives out more heat when situated be- 
neath Cancer or Leo than when he is beneath Capricorn and 
Aquarius. 

17. It is to be supposed that the sun and other planets give 
more heat in perigee, from their approximation to the earth, 
than when in apogee. But if in any country the sun should be 
both in its perigee and nearer to the perpendicular at the same 
time, it must necessarily give out more heat than in a country 
where it is also in perigee, but situated more obliquely; so that 
the comparative altitude of the planets should be observed, and 
their approach to or declination from the perpendicular in diffe- 
rent countries. 

18. The sun and other planets are thought also to give out 
more heat in proportion as they are nearer to the larger fixed 
stars, as when the sun is in Leo he is nearer Cor Leonis, Cauda 
Leonis, Spica Virginis, Sirius, and the lesser Dog-star, than 
when he is in Cancer, where, however, he approaches nearer to 
the perpendicular. It is probable, also, that the quarters of the 
heavens produce a greater heat (though not perceptibly), in pro- 
portion as they are adorned with a greater number of stars, par- 
ticularly those of the first magnitude. 

19. On the whole, the heat of the heavenly bodies is aug- 
mented in three ways ; 1. The approach to the perpendicular ; 
2. Proximity or their perigee ; 3. The conjunction or union of 
stars. 

20. There is a very considerable difference between the degree 
of heat in animals, and even in the rays of the heavenly bodies 
(as they reach us), and the heat of the most gentle flame, and 
even of all ignited substances, nay liquids, or the air itself when 
unusually heated by fire. For the flame of spirit of wine, 
though diffused and uncollected, is yet able to set straw, linen, 
or paper on fire, which animal heat, or that of the sun, will 
never accomplish without a burning-glass. 

21. There are, however, many degrees of strength and weak- 
ness in flame and ignited bodies : but no diligent inquiry has 
been made in this respect, and we must, therefore, pass it hastily 
over. Of all flames, that of spirits of wine appears to be the 
most gentle, except, perhaps, the Ignis Fatuus, or the flashes 
from the perspiration of animals. After this we should be 
inclined to place the flame of light and porous vegetables, such 



470 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK II. 

as straw, reeds, and dried leaves ; from which the flame of hair 
or feathers differs but little. Then, perhaps, comes the flame of 
wood, particularly that which contains but little rosin or pitch; 
that of small wood, however (such as is usually tied up in 
fagots), is milder than that of the trunks or roots of trees. 
This can be easily tried in iron furnaces, where a fire of fagots 
or branches of trees is of little service. JSText follows the flame 
of oil, tallow, wax, and the like oily and fat substances, which 
are not very violent. But a most powerful heat is found in 
pitch and rosin, and a still greater in sulphur, camphire, naphtha, 
saltpetre, and salts (after they have discharged their crude 
matter), and in their compounds ; as in gunpowder, Greek fire 
(vulgarly called wild fire), and its varieties, which possess 
such a stubborn heat as scarcely to be extinguished by water. 

22. We consider that the flame which results from some im- 
perfect metals is very strong and active ; but on all these points 
further inquiry should be made. 

23. The flame of vivid lightning appears to exceed all the 
above, so as sometimes to have melted even wrought iron into 
drops, which the other flames cannot accomplish. 

24. In ignited bodies there are different degrees of heat, con- 
cerning which, also, a diligent inquiry has not been made. We 
consider the faintest heat to be that of tinder, touchwood, and 
dry rope match, such as is used for discharging cannon. JN"ext 
follows that of ignited charcoal or cinders, and even bricks, and 
the like ; but the most violent is that of ignited metals, as iron, 
copper, and the like. Further inquiry, however, must be made 
into this also. 

25. Some ignited bodies are found to be much warmer than 
some flames ; for instance, red hot iron is much warmer, and 
burns more than the flame of spirits of wine. 

26. Some bodies even not ignited, but only heated by the fire, 
as boiling water, and the air confined in reverberatories, surpass 
in heat many flames and ignited substances. 

27. Motion increases heat, c as is shown in the bellows and the 
blow-pipe; for the harder metals are not dissolved or melted by 
steady quiet fire, without the aid of the blow-pipe. 

28. Let an experiment be made with burning-glasses ; in 
which respect I have observed, that if a glass be placed at the 
distance often inches, for instance, from the combustible object, 
it does not kindle or burn it so readily, as if the glass be placed 

c The correct measure of the activity of flame may be obtained by 
multiplying its natural force into the square of its velocity. On this 
account the flame of vivid lightning mentioned in ~No. 23, contains 
so much vigour, its velocity being greater than tha* prising from other 
heat. Ed. 



BOOK II. J APHORISMS. 471 

at the distance of five inches (for instance), and be then gradually 
aud slowly withdrawn to the distance of ten inches. The cone 
and focus of the rays, however, are the same, but the mere 
motion increases the effect of the heat. 

29. Conflagrations, which take place with a high wind, are 
thought to make greater way against than with the wind, be- 
cause when the wind slackens, the flame recoils more rapidly 
than it advances when the wind is favourable. 

30. Flame does not burst out or arise unless it have some 
hollow space to move and exert itself in, except in the exploding 
flame of gunpowder, and the like, where the compression and 
confinement of the flame increase its fury. 

31. The anvil becomes so hot by the hammer, that if it were 
a thin plate it might probably grow red, like ignited iron by re- 
peated strokes. Let the experiment be tried. 

32. But in ignited bodies that are porous, so as to leave room 
for the fire to move itself, if its motion be prevented by strong 
compression, the fire is immediately extinguished ; thus it is 
with tinder, or the burning snuff of a candle or lamp, or even 
hot charcoal or cinders ; for when they are squeezed by snuffers, 
or the foot, and the like, the effect of the fire instantly 
ceases. 

33. The approach towards a hot body increases heat in pro- 
portion to the approximation ; a similar effect to that of light, 
for the nearer any object is placed towards the light, the more 
visible it becomes. 

34. The d union of different heats increases heat, unless the 
substances be mixed ; for a large and small fire in the same spot 
tend mutually to increase each other's heat, but lukewarm water 
poured into boiling water cools it. 

35. The continued neighbourhood of a warm body increases 
heat. For the heat, which perpetually passes and emanates 
from it, being mixed with that which preceded it, multiplies the 
whole. A fire, for instance, does not warm a room in half an 
hour as much as the same fire would in an hour. This does not 
apply to light, for a lamp or candle placed in a spot gives no 
more light by remaining there, than it did at first. 

36. The irritation of surrounding cold increases heat, as may 
be seen in fires during a sharp frost. We think that this is 
owing not merely to the confinement and compression of the 
heat (which forms a sort of union), but also by the exasperation 
of it, as when the air or a stick are violently compressed or bent, 
they recoil, not only to the point they first occupied, but still 

d The fires supply fresh heat, the water has only a certain quan- 
tity of heat, which being diffused over a fresh supply of cooler water, 
must be on the whole lowered. 



472 NOVUM OKGANUM. [BOOK II. 

further back. Let an accurate experiment, therefore, be made 
with a stick, or something of the kind, put into the flame, in 
order to see whether it be not sooner burnt at the sides than in 
the middle of it. e 

37. There are many degrees in the susceptibility of heat. 
And, first, it must be observed how much a low gentle heat 
changes and partially warms even the bodies least susceptible of 
it. For even the heat of the hand imparts a little warmth to a 
ball of lead or other metal held a short time in it ; so easily is 
heat transmitted and excited, without any apparent change in the 
body. 

38. Of all bodies that we are acquainted with, air admits and 
loses heat the most readily, which is admirably seen in weather- 
glasses, whose construction is as follows. Take a glass with 
a hollow belly, and a thin and long neck ; turn it upside down, 
and place it with its mouth downwards into another glass vessel 
containing water ; the end of the tube touching the bottom of 
the vessel, and the tube itself leaning a little on the edge, so as 
to be fixed upright. In order to do this more readily, let a little 
wax be applied to the edge, not however so as to block up the 
orifice, lest by preventing the air from escaping, the motion, 
which we shall presently speak of, and which is very gentle and 
delicate, should be impeded. 

Before the first glass be inserted in the other, its upper part 
(the belly) should be warmed at the fire. Then upon placing it 
as we have described, the air (which was dilated by the heat), 
after a sufficient time has been allowed for it to lose the addi- 
tional temperature, will restore and contract itself to the same 
dimensions as that of the external or common atmosphere at the 
moment of immersion, and the water will be attracted upwards 
in the tube to a proportionate extent. A long narrow slip of 
paper should be attached to the tube, divided into as many 
degrees as you please. You will then perceive, as the weather 
grows warmer or colder, that the air contracts itself into a 
narrower space in cold weather and dilates in the warm, which 
will be exhibited by the rising of the water as the air contracts 
itself, and its depression as the air dilates. The sensibility of 
the air with regard to heat or cold is so delicate and exquisite, 
that it far exceeds the human touch, so that a ray of sunshine, 
the heat of the breath, and much more, that of the hand placed 
on the top of the tube, immediately causes an evident depression 
of the water. We think, however, that the spirit of animals 

e If condensation were the cause of the greater heat, Bacon con- 
chides the centre of the flame would be the hotter part, and vice 
versa\ The fact is, neither of the causes assigned by Bacon is the 
true one; for the fire burns more quickly only because the draught 
of air is more rapid, the cold dense air pressing rapidly into the 
heated room and towards the chimney. 



EOOK II.] APHORISMS. 473 

possesses a much more delicate susceptibility of heat and cold, 
only that it is impeded and blunted by the grossness of their 
bodies. 

39. After air, we consider those bodies to be most sensible of 
heat, which have been recently changed and contracted by cold, 
as snow and ice ; for they begin to be dissolved and melt with 
the first mild weather. Next, perhaps, follows quicksilver ; then 
greasy substances, as oil, butter, and the like ; then wood ; then 
water ; lastly, stones and metals, which do not easily grow hot, 
particularly towards their centre/ When heated, however, they 
retain their temperature for a very long time ; so that a brick or 
stone, or hot iron, plunged in a basin of cold water, and kept 
there for a quarter of an hour or thereabouts, retains such a heat 
as not to admit of being touched. 

40. The less massive the body is, the more readily it grows 
warm at the approach of a heated body, which shows that heat 
with us is somewhat averse to a tangible mass.s 

41. Heat with regard to the human senses and touch is 
various and relative, so that lukewarm water appears hot if the 
hand be cold, and cold if the hand be hot. 

XIV. Any one may readily see how poor we are in history, 
since in the above tables, besides occasionally inserting traditions 
and report instead of approved history and authentic instances 
(always, however, adding some note if their credit or authority 
be doubtful), we are often forced to subjoin, " Let the experiment 
be tried — Let further inquiry be made." 

XV. We are wont to term the office and use of these three 
tables the presenting a review of instances to the understanding ; 
and when this has been done, induction itself is to be brought 
into action. For on an individual review of all the instances a 
nature is to be found, such as always to be present and absent 
with the given nature, to increase and decrease with it, and, as 
we have said, to form a more common limit of the nature. If 
the mind attempt this affirmatively from the first (which it 
always will when left to itself), there will spring up phantoms, 

f Bacon appears to have confounded combustibility and fusibility 
with suscepti bility of heat ; for though the metals will certainly neither 
dissolve as soon as ice or butter, nor be consumed as soon as wood, 
that only shows that different degrees of heat are required to produce 
similar effects on different bodies ; but metals much more readily ac- 
quire and transmit the same degree of heat than any of the above 
substances. The rapid transmission renders them generally cold to 
the touch. The convenience of fixing wooden handles to vessels con- 
taining hot water illustrates these observations. 

8 Another singular error, the truth being, that solid bodies are the 
best conductors ; but of course where heat is diffused over a large mass, 
it is less in each part, than if that part alone absorbed the whole quantum 
of heat. Ed. 



474 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK II. 

mere theories and ill-defined notions, with axioms requiring 
daily correction. These will, doubtless, be better or worse, 
according to the power and strength of the understanding which 
creates them. But it is only for God (the bestower and creator 
of forms), and perhaps for angels and intelligences, at once to 
recognise forms affirmatively at the first glance of contemplation : 
man, at least, is unable to do so, and is only allowed to proceed 
first by negatives, and then to conclude with affirmatives, after 
every species of exclusion. 

XVI. We must, therefore, effect a complete solution and 
separation of nature ; not by fire, but by the mind, that divine 
fire. The first work of legitimate induction, in the discovery of 
forms, is rejection, or the exclusive instances of individual 
natures, which are not found in some one instance where the 
given nature is present, or are found in any one instance where 
it is absent, or are found to increase in any one instance where 
the given nature decreases, or the reverse. After an exclusion 
correctly effected, an affirmative form will remain as the residuum, 
solid, true, and well defined, whilst all volatile opinions go off in 
smoke. This is readily said ; but we must arrive at it by a cir- 
cuitous rout. We shall perhaps, however, omit nothing that 
can facilitate our progress. 

XVII. The first and almost perpetual precaution and warning 
which we consider necessary is this; that none should suppose 
from the great part assigned by us to forms, that we mean such 
forms as the meditations and thoughts of men have hitherto been 
accustomed to. In the first place, we do not at present mean 
the concrete forms, which (as we have observed) are in the com- 
mon course of things compounded of simple natures, as those of 
a lion, an eagle, a rose, gold, or the like. The moment for dis- 
cussing these will arrive when we come to treat of the latent 
process and latent conformation, and the discovery of them 
as they exist in what are called substances, or concrete natures. 

JNor again, would we be thought to mean (even when treating 
of simple natures) any abstract forms or ideas, either undefined 
or badly defined in matter. For when we speak of forms, we 
mean nothing else than those laws and regulations of simple 
action which arrange and constitute any simple nature, such as 
heat, light, weight, in every species of matter, and in a suscep- 
tible subject. The form of heat or form of light, therefore, 
means no more than the law of heat or the law of light. Nor 
do we ever abstract or withdraw ourselves from things, and the 
operative branch of philosophy. When, therefore, we say (for 
instance) in our investigation of the form of heat, Reject rarity, 
or, Rarity is not of the form of heat, it is the same as if we 
were to say, Man can superinduce heat on a dense body, or 



BOOK II.] APHORISMS. 4:75 

the reverse, Man can abstract or ward off heat from a rare 
body. 

But if our forms appear to any one to be somewhat abstracted, 
from their mingling and uniting heterogeneous objects (the 
heat for instance of the heavenly bodies appears to be very dif- 
ferent from that of fire ; the fixed red of the rose and the like, 
from that which is apparent in the rainbow, or the radiation of 
opal or the diamond ; h death by drowning, from that by burning, 
the sword, apoplexy, or consumption ; and yet they all agree in 
the common natures of heat, redness, and death), let him be 
assured that his understanding is enthralled by habit, by general 
appearances and hypotheses. For it is most certain that, how- 
ever heterogeneous and distinct, they agree in the form or law 
wlrich regulates heat, redness, or death ; and that human power 
cannot be emancipated and freed from the common course of 
nature, and expanded and exalted to new efficients and new 
modes of operation, except by the revelation and invention of 
forms of this nature. But after this 1 union of nature, which is 
the principal point, we will afterwards, in its proper place, treat 
of the divisions and ramifications of nature, whether ordinary or 
internal and more real. 

XVIII. We must now offer an example of the exclusion or 
rejection of natures found by the tables of review, not to be of 
the form of heat ; first premising that not only each table is 
sufficient for the rejection of any nature, but even each single 
instance contained in them. For it is clear from what has been 
said that every contradictory instance destroys an hypothesis as 
to the form. Still, however, for the sake of clearness, and in 
order to show more plainly the use of the tables, we redouble or 
repeat the exclusive. 

An Example of the Exclusive Table, or of the Rejection of Natives from 

the Form of Heat. 

1. On account of the sun's rays, reject elementary (or terres- 
trial) nature. 

2. On account of common fire, and particularly subterranean 
fires (which are the most remote and secluded from the rays of 
the heavenly bodies), reject celestial nature. 

3. On account of the heat acquired by every description of 
substances (as minerals, vegetables, the external parts of animals, 

h This general law or form has been well illustrated by Newton's 
discovery of the decomposition of colours. 

1 /. e. the common link or form which connects the various kinds 
of natures, such as the different hot or red natures enumerated above. 
— See Aphorism iii. part 2. 



476 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK II. 

water, oil, air, &c.) by mere approximation to the fire or any- 
warm body, reject all variety and delicate texture of bodies. 

4. On account of iron and ignited metals, which warm other 
bodies, and yet neither lose their weight nor substance, reject 
the imparting or mixing of the substance of the heating body. 

5. On account of boiling water and air, and also those metals 
and other solid bodies which are heated, but not to ignition, or 
red heat, reject flame or light. 

6. On account of the rays of the moon and other heavenly 
bodies (except the sun), again reject flame or light. 

7. On account of the comparison between red-hot iron and the 
flame of spirits of wine (for the iron is more hot and less bright, 
whilst the flame of spirits of wine is more bright and less hot), 
again reject flame and light. 

8. On account of gold and other ignited metals, which are of 
the greatest specific density, reject rarity. 

9. On account of air, which is generally found to be cold and 
yet continues rare, reject rarity. 

10. On account of ignited iron, k which does not swell in bulk, 
but retains the same apparent dimension, reject the absolute 
expansive motion of the whole. 

11. On account of the expansion of the air in thermometers 
and the like, which is absolutely moved and expanded to the eye, 
and yet acquires no manifest increase of heat, again reject 
absolute or expansive motion of the whole. 

12. On account of the ready application of heat to all sub- 
stances without any destruction or remarkable alteration of them, 
reject destructive nature or the violent communication of any 
new nature. 

13. On account of the agreement and conformity of the effects 
produced by cold and heat, reject both expansive and contracting 
motion as regards the whole. 

14. On account of the heat excited by friction, reject principal 
nature, by which we mean that which exists positively, and is 
not caused by a preceding nature. 

There are other natures to be rejected ; but we are merely 
offering examples, and not perfect tables. 

None of the above natures are of the form of heat ; and man 
is freed from them all in his operation upon heat. 

XIX. In the exclusive table are laid the foundations of true 
induction, which is not, however, completed until the affirmative 
be attained. JNTor is the exclusive table perfect, nor can it be so 
at first. For it is clearly a rejection of simple natures ; but if we 
have not as yet good and just notions of simple natures, how can 
the exclusive table be made correct ? Some of the above, as the 

k This is erroneous, — all metals expand considerably when heated. 



BOOK II.] APHORISMS. 477 

notion of elementary and celestial natnre, and rarity, are vague 
and ill-defined. We, therefore, who are neither ignorant nor 
forgetful of the great work which we attempt, in rendering the 
human understanding adequate to things and nature, by no means 
rest satisfied with what we have hitherto enforced, but push 
the matter farther, and contrive and prepare more powerful aid 
for the use of the understanding, which we will next subjoin. 
And, indeed, in the interpretation of nature the mind is to be so 
prepared and formed, as to rest itself on proper degrees of cer- 
tainty, and yet to remember (especially at first) that what is 
present depends much upon what remains behind. 

XX. Since, however, truth emerges more readily from error 
than confusion, we consider it useful to leave the understanding 
at liberty to exert itself and attempt the interpretation of nature 
in the affirmative, after having constructed and weighed the 
three tables of preparation, such as we have laid them down, 
both from the instances there collected, and others occurring 
elsewhere. Which attempt we are wont to call the liberty of 
the understanding, or the commencement of interpretation, or 
the first vintage. 

The First Vintage of the Form of Heat. 

It must be observed that the form of anything is inherent (as 
appears clearly from our premises) in each individual instance in 
which the thing itself is inherent, or it would not be a form. "No 
contradictory instance, therefore, can be alleged. The form, 
however, is found to be much more conspicuous and evident in 
some instances than in others ; in those (for example) where its 
nature is less restrained and embarrassed, and reduced to rule by 
other natures. Such instances we are wont to term coruscations, 
or conspicuous instances. We must proceed, then, to the first 
vintage of the form of heat. 

From the instances taken collectively, as well as singly, the 
nature whose limit is heat appears to be motion. This is chiefly 
exhibited in flame, which is in constant motion, and in warm or 
boiling liquids, which are likewise in constant motion. It is also 
shown in the excitement or increase of heat by motion, as by 
bellows and draughts : for which see Inst. 29, Tab. 3, and by 
other species of motion, as in Inst. 28 and 31, Tab. 3. It is also 
shown by the extinction of fire and heat upon any strong pres- 
sure, which restrains and puts a stop to motion ; for which see 
Inst. 30 and 32, Tab. 3. It is further shown by this circumstance, 
namely, that every substance is destroyed, or at least materially 
changed, byj strong and powerful fire and heat : whence it is 
clear that tumult and confusion are occasioned by heat, together 
with a violent motion in the internal parts of bodies; and this 
gradually tends to their dissolution. 



478 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK II. 

What we have said with regard to motion must be thus under- 
stood, when taken as the genus of heat : it must not be thought 
that heat generates motion, or motion heat (though in some 
respects this be true), but that the very essence of heat, or the 
substantial self 1 of heat, is motion and nothing else, limited, 
however, by certain differences which we will presently add, after 
giving some cautions for avoiding ambiguity. 

Sensible heat is relative, and regards man, not universe ; and 
is rightly held to be merely the effect of heat on animal spirit. 
It is even variable in itself, since the same body (in different 
states of sensation) excites the feeling of heat and of cold ; this 
is shown by Inst. 41, Tab. 3. 

JN"or should we confound the communication of heat or its 
transitive nature, by which a body grows warm at the approach 
of a heated body, with the form of heat ; for heat is one thing 
and heating another. Heat can be excited by friction without 
any previous heating body, and, therefore, heating is excluded 
from the form of heat. Even when heat is excited by the ap- 
proach of a hot body, this depends not on the form of heat, but 
on another more profound and common nature ; namely, that of 
assimilation and multiplication, about which a separate inquiry 
must be made. 

The notion of fire is vulgar, and of no assistance ; it is merely 
compounded of the conjunction of heat and light in any body, as 
in ordinary flame and red-hot substances. 

Laying aside all ambiguity, therefore, we must lastly consider 
the true differences which limit motion and render it the form of 
heat. 

I. The first difference is, that heat is an expansive motion, by 
which the body strives to dilate itself, and to occupy a greater 
space than before. This difference is principally seen in flame, 
where the smoke or thick vapour is clearly dilated and bursts 
into flame. 

It is also shown in all boiling liquids, which swell, rise, and 
boil up to the sight, and the process 6f expansion is urged for- 
ward till they are converted into a much more extended and 
dilated body than the liquid itself, such as steam, smoke, or air. 

It is also shown in wood and combustibles where exudation 
sometimes takes place, and evaporation always. 

It is also shown in the melting of metals, which, being very 
compact, do not easily swell and dilate, but yet their spirit, when 
dilated and desirous of further expansion, forces and urges its 
thicker parts into dissolution, and if the heat be pushed still 
farther, reduces a considerable part of them into a volatile state. 

It is also shown in iron or stones, which, though not melted or 

1 "Quid ipsum," the to tI y\v elvcti of Aristotle. 



BOOK II.] APHORISMS. 479 

dissolved, are however softened. The same circumstance takes 
place in sticks of wood, which become flexible when a little 
heated in warm ashes. 

It is most readily observed in air, which instantly and mani- 
festly expands with a small degree of heat, as in Inst. 38, Tab. 3. 

It is also shown in the contrary nature of cold ; for cold con- 
tracts and narrows every substance; 111 so that in intense frosts 
nails fall out of the wall and brass cracks, and heated glass 
exposed suddenly to the cold cracks and breaks. So the air by a 
slight degree of cold, contracts itself, as in Inst. 38, Tab. 3. 
More will be said of this in the inquiry into cold. 

Nor is it to be wondered at if cold and heat exhibit many com- 
mon effects (for which see Inst. 32, Tab 2), since two differences, 
of which we shall presently speak, belong to each nature : 
although in the present difference the effects be diametrically 
opposed to each other. For heat occasions an expansive and 
dilating motion, but cold a contracting and condensing motion. 

II. The second difference is a modification of the preceding, 
namely, that heat is an expansive motion, tending towards the 
exterior, but at the same time bearing the body upwards. For 
there is no doubt that there be many compound motions, as an 
arrow or dart, for instance, has both a rotatory and progressive 
motion. In the same way the motion of heat is both expansive 
and tending upwards. 

This difference is shown by putting the tongs or poker into the 
fire. If placed perpendicularly with the hand above, they soon 
burn it, but much less speedily if the hand hold them sloping or 
from below. 

It is also conspicuous in distillations per descensum, which men 
are wont to employ with delicate flowers, whose scent easily 
evaporates. Their industry has devised placing the fire* above 
instead of below, that it may scorch less ; for not only flame but 
all heat has an upward tendency. 

Let an experiment be made on the contrary nature of cold, 
whether its contraction be downwards, as the expansion of heat 
is upwards. Take, therefore, two iron rods or two glass tubes, 
alike in other respects, and warm them a little, and place a 
sponge, dipped in cold water, or some snow, below the one and 
above the other. "We are of opinion that the extremities will 
grow cold in that rod first where it is placed beneath, as the 
contrary takes place with regard to heat. 

m To show the error of the text, we need only mention the case of 
water, which, when confined in corked vases, and exposed to the action 
of a freezing atmosphere, is sure to swell out and break those vessels 
which are not sufficiently large to contain its expanded volume. Mega- 
lotti narrates a hundred other instances of a similar character. Ed, 



480 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK II. 

III. The third difference is this ; that heat is not a uniform 
expansive motion of the whole, but of the small particles of the 
body ; and this motion being at the same time restrained, re- 
pulsed, and reflected, becomes alternating, perpetually hurrying, 
striving, struggling, and irritated by the repercussion, which is 
the source of the violence of flame and heat. 

But this difference is chiefly shown in flame and boiling liquids, 
which always hurry, swell, and subside again in detached parts. 

It is also shown in bodies of such hard texture as not to swell 
or dilate in bulk, such as red-hot iron, in which the heat is most 
violent. 

It is also shown by the fires burning most briskly in the 
coldest weather. 

It is also shown by this, that when the air is dilated in the 
thermometer uniformly and equably, without any impediment or 
repulsion, the heat is not perceptible. In confined draughts also, 
although they break out very violently, no remarkable heat is 
perceived, because the motion affects the whole, without any 
alternating motion in the particles ; for which reason try whether 
flame do not burn more at the sides than in its centre. 

It is also shown in this, that all burning proceeds by the 
minute pores of bodies, — undermining, penetrating, piercing, 
and pricking them as if with an infinite number of needle-points. 
Hence all strong acids (if adapted to the body on which they 
act) exhibit the effects of fire, from their corroding and pungent 
nature. 

The difference of which we now speak is common also to the 
nature of cold, in which the contracting motion is restrained by 
the resistance of expansion, as in heat the expansive motion is 
restrained by the resistance of contraction. 

Whether, therefore, the particles of matter penetrate inwards 
or outwards, the reasoning is the same, though the power be very 
different, because we have nothing on earth which is intensely cold. 

IV. The fourth difference is a modification of the preceding, 
namely, that this stimulating or penetrating motion should be 
rapid and never sluggish, and should take place not in the very 
minutest particles, but rather in those of some tolerable dimen- 
sions. 

It is shown by comparing the effects of fire with those of 
time. Time dries, consumes, undermines, and reduces to ashes 
as well as fire, and perhaps to a much finer degree ; but as its 
motion is very slow, and attacks very minute particles, no heat 
is perceived. 

It is also shown in a comparison of the dissolution of iron and 
gold ; for gold is dissolved without the excitement of any heat, 
but iron with a vehement excitement of it, although most in the 
same time, because in the former the penetration of the sepa- 



BOOK II.] THE NATURE OF HEAT. 481 

rating acid is mild, and gently insinuates itself, and the particles 
of gold yield easily, but the penetration of iron is violent, and 
attended with some struggle, and its particles are more ob- 
stinate. 

It is partially shown, also, in some gangrenes and mortifica- 
tions of flesh, which do not excite great heat or pain, from the 
gentle nature of the putrefaction. 

Let this suffice for a first vintage, or the commencement of 
the interpretation of the form of heat by the liberty of the un- 
derstanding. 

From this first vintage the form or true definition of heat 
(considered relatively to the universe and not to the sense) is 
briefly thus : — Heat is an expansive motion restrained, and 
striving to exert itself in the smaller particles. 11 The expansion 
is modified by its tendency to rise, though expanding towards 
the exterior; and the effort is modified by its not being sluggish, 
but active and somewhat violent. 

With regard to the operative definition, the matter is the same. 
If you are able to excite a dilating or expansive motion in any 
natural body, and so to repress that motion and force it on itself 
as not to allow the expansion to proceed equally, but only to be 
partially exerted and partially repressed, you will beyond all 
doubt produce heat, without any consideration as to whether the 
body be of earth (or elementary, as they term it), or imbued with 
celestial influence, luminous or opaque, rare or dense, locally 
expanded or contained within the bounds of its first dimensions, 
verging to dissolution or remaining fixed, animal, vegetable, or 

n Bacon's inquisition into the nature of heat, as an example of the 
mode of interpreting nature, cannot be looked upon otherwise than as a 
complete failure. Though the exact nature of this phenomenon is still an 
obscure and controverted matter, the science of thermotics now con- 
sists of many important truths, and to none of these truths is there so 
much as an approximation in Bacon's process. The steps by which this 
science really advanced were the discovery of a measure of a heat 
or temperature, the establishment of the laws of conduction and 
radiation, of the laws oi specific heat, latent heat, and the like. Such 
advances have led to Ampere's hypothesis, that heat consists in the 
vibrations of an imponderable fluid ; and to Laplace's theory, that tem- 
perature consists in the internal radiation of a similar medium. These 
hypotheses cannot yet be said to be even probable, but at least they are 
so modified as to include some of the preceding laws which are firmly 
established, whereas Bacon's " form," or true definition of heat,, as 
stated in the text, includes no laws of phenomena, explains no process, 
and is indeed itself an example of illicit generalization. 

In all the details of his example of heat he is unfortunate. He in- 
cludes in his collection of instances, the hot tastes of aromatic plants, 
the caustic effects of acids, and many other facts which cannot be 
ascribed to heat without a studious laxity in the use of the word. Ed, 
2 2 i 



482 



NOVUM ORGANUM. 



[BOOK II. 



mineral, water, or oil, or air, or any other substance whatever 
susceptible of such motion. Sensible heat is the same, but con- 
sidered relatively to the senses. Let us now proceed to further 
helps. 

XXI. After our tables of first review, our rejection or exclu- 
sive table, and the first vintage derived from them, we must 
advance to the remaining helps of the understanding with regard 
to the interpretation of nature, and a true and perfect induc- 
tion, in offering which we will take the examples of cold and 
heat where tables are necessary, but where fewer instances are 
required, we will go through a variety of others, so as neither to 
confound investigation nor to narrow our doctrine. 

In the first place, therefore, we will treat of prerogative in- 
stances ;° 2. Of the supports of induction ; 3. Of the correction 
of induction ; 4. Of varying the investigation according to the 

By this term Bacon understands general phenomena, taken in order 
from the great mass of indiscriminative facts, which, as they lie in 
nature, are apt to generate confusion by their number, indistinctness, 
and complication. Such classes of phenomena, as being peculiarly 
suggestive of causation, he quaintly classes under the title of prerogative 
inquiries, either seduced by the fanciful analogy, which such instances 
bore to the prerogatives centuria in the Roman Comitia, or justly con- 
sidering them as Herschell supposes to hold a kind of prerogative dig- 
nity from being peculiarly suggestive of causation. 

Two high authorities in physical science (v. Herschell, Nat. Phil, 
art. 192 ; Whe well's Philosophy of the Inductive Sciences, vol. ii. p. 243) 
pronounce these instances of little service in the task of induction, 
being for the most part classed not according to the ideas which they 
involve, or to any obvious circumstance in the facts of which they 
consist, but according to the extent and manner of their influence upon 
the inquiry in which they are employed. Thus we have solitary in- 
stances, migrating instances, ostensive instances, clandestine instances, 
so termed according to the degree in which they exhibit, or seem to ex- 
hibit, the property, whose nature we would examine. We have guide- 
post instances, crucial instances, instances of the parted road, of the door- 
way, of the lamp, according to the guidance they supply to our advance. 
Whewell remarks that such a classification is much of the same nature as 
if, having to teach the art of building, we were to describe tools with 
reference to the amount and place of the work which they must do, 
instead of pointing out their construction and use ; as if we were to inform 
the pupil that we must have tools for lifting a stone up, tools for moving 
it side- ways, tools for laying it square, and tools for cementing it firmly. 
The means are thus lost in the end, and we reap the fruits of unme- 
thodical arrangement in the confusion of cross division. In addition, 
all the instances are leavened with the error of confounding the laws 
with the causes of phenomena, and we are urged to adopt the funda- 
mental error of seeking therein the universal agents, or general causes 
of phenomena, without ascending the gradual steps of intermediate 
laws. Ed. 



BOOK II.] PREROGATIVE INSTANCES. 483 

nature of the subject ; 5. Of the prerogative natures with respect 
to investigation, or of what should be the first or last objects of 
our research ; 6. Of the limits of investigation, or a synopsis of 
all natures that exist in the- universe ; 7. Of the application to 
practical purposes, or of what relates to man ; 8. Of the prepa- 
rations for investigation; 9. And lastly, of the ascending and 
descending scale of axioms. p 

XXII. Amongst the prerogative instances we will first men- 
tion solitary instances. Solitary instances are those which 
exhibit the required nature in subjects that have nothing in 
common with any other subject than the nature in question, or 
which do not exhibit the required nature in subjects resembling 
others in every respect except that of the nature in question ; 
for these instances manifestly remove prolixity, and accelerate 
and confirm exclusion, so that a few of them are of as much 
avail as many. 

For instance, let the inquiry be the nature of colour. Prisms, 
crystalline gems, which yield colours not only internally but on 
the wall, dews, &c, are solitary instances ; for they have nothing 
in common with the fixed colours in flowers and coloured gems, 
metals, woods, &c, except the colour itself. Hence we easily 
deduce that colour is nothing but a modification of the image of 
the incident and absorbed light, occasioned in the former case 
by the different degrees of incidence, in the latter by the various 
textures and forms of bodies. q These are solitary instances as 
regards similitude. 

Again, in the same inquiry the distinct veins of white and 
black in marble, and the variegated colours of flowers of the 
same species, are solitary instances ; for the black and white of 
marble, and the spots of white and purple in the flowers of the 
stock, agree in every respect but that of colour. Thence we 
easily deduce that colour has not much to do with the intrinsic 
natures of any body, but depends only on the coarser and as it 
were mechanical arrangement of the parts. These are solitary 
instances as regards difference. We call them both solitary or 
wild, to borrow a word from the astronomers. 

XXIII. In the second rank of prerogative instances we will 
consider migrating instances. In these the required nature 
passes towards generation, having no previous existence, or to- 
wards corruption, having first existed. In each of these divi- 
sions, therefore, the instances are always twofold, or rather it is 
one instance, first in motion or on its passage, and then brought 

p Of these nine general heads no more than the first is prosecuted by 
the author. 

i This very nearly approaches to Sir I. Newton's discovery of the 
decomposition of light by the prism. 

2 i2 



484 NOVUM OKGANUM. [BOOK II. 

to the opposite conclusion. These instances not only hasten and 
confirm exclusion, but also reduce affirmation, or the form itself, 
to a narrow compass ; for the form must be something conferred 
by this migration, or, on the contrary, removed and destroyed by 
it; and although all exclusion advances affirmation, yet this 
takes place more directly in the same than in different subjects ; 
but if the form (as it is quite clear from what has been advanced) 
exhibit itself in one subject, it leads to all. The more simple 
the migration is, the more valuable is the instance. These mi- 
grating instances are, moreover, very useful in practice, for 
since they manifest the form, coupled with that which causes or 
destroys it, they point out the right practice in some subjects, 
and thence there is an easy transition to those with which they 
are most allied. There is, however, a degree of danger which 
demands caution, namely, lest they should refer the form too 
much to its efficient cause, and imbue, or at least tinge, the un- 
derstanding with a false notion of the form from the appearance 
of such cause, which is never more than a vehicle or conveyance 
of the form. This may easily be remedied by a proper applica- 
tion of exclusion. 

Let us then give an example of a migrating instance. Let 
whiteness be the required nature. An instance which passes 
towards generation is glass in its entire and in its powdered 
state, or water in its natural state, and when agitated to froth ; 
for glass when entire, and water in its natural state, are transpa- 
rent and not white, but powdered glass and the froth of water 
are white and not transparent. We must inquire, therefore, 
what has happened to the glass or water in the course of this 
migration ; for it is manifest that the form of whiteness is con- 
veyed and introduced by the bruising of the glass and the agita- 
tion of the water ; but nothing is found to have been introduced 
but a diminishing of the parts of the glass and water and the 
insertion of air. Yet this is no slight progress towards dis- 
covering the form of whiteness, namely, that two bodies, in 
themselves more or less transparent (as air and water, or air and 
glass), when brought into contact in minute portions, exhibit 
whiteness from the unequal refraction of the rays of light. 

But here we must also give an example of the danger and 
caution of which we spoke ; for instance, it will readily occur to 
an understanding perverted by efficients, that air is always 
necessary for producing the form of whiteness, or that white- 
ness is only generated by transparent bodies, which suppositions 
are both false, and proved to be so by many exclusions ; nay, it 
will rather appear (without any particular regard to air or the 
like), that all bodies which are even in such of their parts as 
affect the sight exhibit transparency, those which are uneven 
and of simple texture whiteness, those which are uneven and of 



BOOK II.] CONSPICUOUS INSTANCES. 485 

compound but regular texture all the other colours except black, 
but those which are uneven and of a compound irregular and 
confused texture exhibit blackness. An example has been given, 
therefore, of an instance migrating towards generation in the 
required nature of whiteness. An instance migrating towards 
corruption in the same nature is that of dissolving froth or snow, 
for they lose their whiteness and assume the transparency of 
water in its pure state without air. 

ISot should we by any means omit to state, that under mi- 
grating instances we must comprehend not only those which 
pass towards generation and destruction, but also those which 
pass towards increase or decrease, for they, too, assist in the dis- 
covery ot the form, as is clear from our definition of a form and 
the Table of Degrees. Hence paper, which is white when dry, 
is less white when moistened (from the exclusion of air and ad- 
mission of water), and tends more to transparency. The reason 
is the same as in the above instances/ 

XXIV. In the third rank of prerogative instances we will 
class conspicuous instances, of which we spoke in our first vin- 
tage of the form of heat, and which we are also wont to call co- 
ruscations, or free and predominant instances. They are such 
as show the required nature in its bare substantial shape, and at 
its height or greatest degree of power, emancipated and free 
from all impediments, or at least overcoming, suppressing, and 
restraining them by the strength of its qualities; for since every 
body is susceptible of many united forms of natures in the con- 
crete, the consequence is that they mutually deaden, depress, 
break, and confine each other, and the individual forms are 
obscured. But there are some subjects in which the required 
nature exists in its full vigour rather than in others, either from 
the absence of any impediment, or the predominance oi its qua- 
lity. Such instances are eminently conspicuous. But even in 
these care must be taken, and the hastiness of the understanding 
checked, for whatever makes a show of the form, and forces it 
forward, is to be suspected, and recourse must be had to severe 
and diligent exclusion. 

For example, let heat be the required nature. The thermo- 
meter is a conspicuous instance of the expansive motion, which 
(as has been observed) constitutes the chief part of the form of 
heat ; for although flame clearly exhibits expansion, yet from its 
being extinguished every moment, it does not exhibit the pro- 
gress of expansion. Boning water again, from its rapid conver- 

r The mineral kingdom, as displaying the same nature in all its gra- 
dations, from the shells so perfect in structure in limestone to the finer 
marbles in which their nature gradually disappears, is the great theatre 
for instances oi migration. Ed. 



486 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK II. 

sion into vapour, does not so well exhibit the expansion of water 
in its own shape, whilst red-hot iron and the like are so far from 
showing this progress, that, on the contrary, the expansion itself 
is scarcely evident to the senses, on account of its spirit being 
repressed and weakened by the compact and coarse particles 
which subdue and restrain it. But the thermometer strikingly 
exhibits the expansion of the air as being evident and progres- 
sive, durable and not transitory. s 

Take another example. Let the required nature be weight. 
Quicksilver is a conspicuous instance of weight ; for it is far 
heavier than any other substance except gold, which is not much 
heavier, and it is a better instance than gold for the purpose of 
indicating the form of weight ; for gold is solid and consistent, 
which qualities must be referred to density, but quicksilver is 
liquid and teeming with spirit, yet much heavier than the dia- 
mond and other substances considered to be most solid ; whence 
it is shown that the form of gravity or weight predominates only 
in the quantity of matter, and not in the close fitting of it.' 

XXV. In the fourth rank of prerogative instances we will 
class clandestine instances, which we are also wont to call twi- 
light instances ; they are as it were opposed to the conspicuous 
instances, for they show the required nature in its lowest state 
of efficacy, and as it were its cradle and first rudiments, making 
an effort and a sort of first attempt, but concealed and subdued 
by a contrary nature. Such instances are, however, of great 
importance in discovering forms, for as the conspicuous tend 
easily to differences, so do the clandestine best ]ead to genera, 
that is, to those common natures of which the required natures 
are only the limits. 

As an example, let consistency, or that which confines itself, 
be the required nature, the opposite of which is a liquid or flowing 
state. The clandestine instances are such as exhibit some weak 
and low degree of consistency in fluids, as a water bubble, which 
is a sort of consistent and bounded pellicle formed out of the 

s Bacon was not aware of the fact- since brought to light by 
Romer, that down to fourteen fathoms from the earth's mean level the 
thermometer remains fixed at the tenth degree, but that as the thermo- 
meter descends below that depth the heat increases in a ratio propor- 
tionate to the descent, which happens with little variation in all climates. 
Buffon considers this a proof of a central fire in our planet. Ed. 

t All the diversities of bodies depend upon two principles, i. e. the 
quantity and the position of the elements that enter into their composi- 
tion. The primary difference is not that which depends on the greatest 
or least quantity of material elements, but that which depends on their 
position. It was the quick perception of this truth that made Leibnitz 
say that to complete mathematics it was necessary to join to the analysis 
of quantity the analysis of position. Ed. 



BOOK II.] CONSPICUOUS INSTANCES. 487 

substance of the water. So eaves' droppings, if there be enough 
water to follow them, draw themselves out into a thin thread, not 
to break the continuity of the water, but if there be not enough 
to follow, the water forms itself into a round drop, which is the 
best form to prevent a breach of continuity ; and at the moment 
the thread ceases, and the water begins to fall in drops, the 
thread of water recoils upwards to avoid such a breach. Nay, in 
metals, which when melted are liquid but more tenacious, the 
melted drops often recoil and are suspended. There is some- 
thing similar in the instance of the child's looking-glass, which 
little boys will sometimes form of spittle between rushes, and 
where the same pellicle of water is observable ; and still more in 
that other amusement of children, when they take some water 
rendered a little more tenacious by soap, and inflate it with a 
pipe, forming the water into a sort of castle of bubbles, which 
assumes such consistency, by the interposition of the air, as to 
admit of being thrown some little distance without bursting. 
The best example is that of froth and snow, which assume such 
consistency as almost to admit of being cut, although composed 
of air and water, both liquids. All these circumstances clearly 
show that the terms liquid and consistent are merely vulgar 
notions adapted to the sense, and that in reality all bodies have 
a tendency to avoid a breach of continuity, faint and weak in 
bodies composed of homogeneous parts (as is the case with liquids), 
but more vivid and powerful in those composed of heterogeneous 
parts, because the approach of heterogeneous matter binds bodies 
together, whilst the insinuation of homogeneous matter loosens 
and relaxes them. 

Again, to take another example, let the required nature be 
attraction or the cohesion of bodies. The most remarkable con- 
spicuous instance with regard to its form is the magnet. The 
contrary nature to attraction is non-attraction, though in a similar 
substance. Thus iron does not attract iron, lead lead, wood 
wood, nor water water. But the clandestine instance is that of 
the magnet armed with iron, or rather that of iron in the magnet 
so armed. For its nature is such that the magnet when armed 
does not attract iron more powerfully at any given distance than 
when unarmed ; but if the iron be brought in contact with the 
armed magnet, the latter will sustain a much greater weight than 
the simple magnet, from the resemblance of substance in the two 
portions of iron, a quality altogether clandestine and hidden 
in the iron until the magnet was introduced. It is manifest, 
therefore, that the form of cohesion is something which is vivid 
and robust in the magnet, and hidden and weak in the iron. It 
is to be observed, also, that small wooden arrows without an iron 
point, when discharged from large mortars, penetrate further 
into wooden substances (such as the ribs of ships or the like), 



488 NOVUM ORGAXUM. [BOOK II. 

than the same arrows pointed with iron, u owing to the similarity 
of substance, though this quality was previously latent in the 
wood. Again, although in the mass air does not appear to attract 
air, nor water water, yet when one bubble is brought near 
another, they are both more readily dissolved, from the tendency 
to contact of the water with the water, and the air with the air. x 
These clandestine instances (which are, as has been observed, of 
the most important service) are principally to be observed in 
small portions of bodies, for the larger masses observe more 
universal and general forms, as will be mentioned in its proper 
place. Y 

XXVI. In the fifth rank of prerogative instances we will class 
constitutive instances, which we are wont also to call collective 
instances. They constitute a species or lesser form, as it were, 
of the required nature. For since the real forms (which are 

u Query? 

x The real cause of this phenomenon is the attraction of the surface- 
water in the vessel by the sides of the bubbles. When the bubbles 
approach, the sides nearest each other both tend to raise the small space 
of water between them, and consequently less water is raised by each 
of these nearer sides than by the exterior part of the bubble, and the 
greater weight of the water raised on the exterior parts pushes the 
bubbles together. In the same manner a bubble near the side of a 
vessel is pushed towards it ; the vessel and bubble both drawing the 
water that is between them. The latter phenomenon cannot be explained 
on Bacon's hypothesis. 

y Modern discoveries appear to bear out the sagacity of Bacon's 
remark, and the experiments of Baron Caguard may be regarded as a 
first step towards its full demonstration. After the new facts elicited 
by that philosopher, there can be little doubt that the solid, liquid, and 
aeriform state of bodies are merely stages in a progress of gradual transi- 
tion from one extreme to the other, and that however strongly marked 
the distinctions between them may appear, they will ultimately turn 
out to be separated by no sudden or violent line of demarcation, but 
slide into each other by imperceptible gradations. Bacon's suggestion, 
however, is as old as Pythagoras, and perhaps simultaneous with the 
first dawn of philosophic reason. The doctrine of the reciprocal trans- 
mutation of the elements underlies all the physical systems of the 
ancients, and was adopted by the Epicureans as well as the Stoic*. 
Ovid opens his last book of the Metamorphoses with the poetry of the 
subject, where he expressly points to the hint of Bacon : — 

" Tenuatus in auras 

Aeraque humor abit, &c. &c. 

Inde retro redeunt, idemque retexitur ordo." — xv. 246 — 249. 

and Seneca, in the third book of his Natural Philosophy, quest, iv. 
states the opinion in more precise language than either the ancient bard 
or the modern philosopher. Ed. 



BOOK II.] CONSTITUTIVE INSTANCES. 489 

always convertible with the given nature) lie at some depth, and 
are not easily discovered, the necessity of the case and the 
infirmity of the human understanding require that the particular 
forms, which collect certain groups of instances (but by no means 
all) into some common notion, should not be neglected, but most 
diligently observed. For whatever unites nature, even imper- 
fectly, opens the way to the discovery of the form. The instances, 
therefore, which are serviceable in this respect are of no mean 
power, but endowed with some degree of prerogative. 

Here, nevertheless, great care must be taken that, after the 
discovery of several of these particular forms, and the establish- 
ing of certain partitions or divisions of the required nature 
derived from them, the human understanding do not at once rest 
satisfied, without preparing for the investigation of the great or 
leading form, and taking it for granted that nature is compound 
and divided from its very root, despise and reject any farther 
union as a point of superfluous refinement, and tending to mere 
abstraction. 

For instance, let the required nature be memory, or that which 
excites and assists memory. The constitutive instances are order 
or distribution, which manifestly assists memory ; topics or 
common-places in artificial memory, which may be either places 
in their literal sense, as a gate, a corner, a window, and the like, 
or familiar persons and marks, or anything else (provided it be 
arranged in a determinate order), as animals, plants, and words, 
letters, characters, historical persons, and the like, of which, 
however, some are more convenient than others. All these 
common-places materially assist memory, and raise it far above 
its natural strength. Verse, too, is recollected and learnt more 
easily than prose. From this group of three instances — order, 
the common-places of artificial memory, and verses — is consti- 
tuted one species of aid for the memory, 2 which may be well 
termed a separation from infinity. For when a man strives to 
recollect or recall anything to memory, without a preconceived 
notion or perception of the object of his search, he inquires 
about, and labours, and turns from point to point, as if involved 
in infinity. But if he have any preconceived notion, this infinity 
is separated off*, and the range of his memory is brought within 
closer limits. In the three instances given above, the precon- 
ceived notion is clear and determined. In the first, it must be 
something that agrees with order ; in the second, an image which 

z The author's own system of Memoria Technica may be found in 
the De Augmentis, chap. xv. We may add that, notwithstanding 
Bacon's assertion that he intended his method to apply to religion, 
politics, and morals, this is the only lengthy illustration he has adduced 
of any subject out of the domain of physical science. Ed. 



490 NOVUM OEGANUM. [BOOK II. 

lias some relation or agreement with the fixed common-places ; in 
the third, words which fall into a verse : and thus infinity is 
divided off. Other instances will offer another species, namely, 
that whatever brings the intellect into contact with something 
that strikes the sense (the principal point of artificial memory), 
assists the memory. Others again offer another species, namely, 
whatever excites an impression by any powerful passion, as fear, 
wonder, shame, delight, assists the memory. Other instances 
will afford another species : thus those impressions remain most 
fixed in the memory which are taken from the mind when clear 
and least occupied by preceding or succeeding notions, such as 
the things we learn in childhood, or imagine before sleep, and 
the first time of any circumstance happening. Other instances 
afford the following species : namely, that a multitude of circum- 
stances or handles assist the memory, such as writing in para- 
graphs, reading aloud, or recitation. Lastly, other instances 
afford still another species : thus the things we anticipate, and 
which rouse our attention, are more easily remembered than 
transient events ; as if you read any work twenty times over, 
you will not learn it by heart so readily as if you were to read it 
but ten times, trying each time to repeat it, and when your 
memory fails you looking into the book. There are, therefore, 
six lesser forms, as it were, of things which assist the memory : 
namely — 1, the separation of infinity ; 2, the connection of the 
mind with the senses; 3, the impression in strong passion; 
4, the impression on the mind when pure ; 5, the multitude of 
handles ; 6, anticipation. 

Again, for example's sake, let the required nature be taste or 
the power of tasting. The following instances are constitutive : 
1. Those who do not smell, but are deprived by nature of that 
sense, do not perceive or distinguish rancid or putrid food by 
their taste, nor garlic from roses, and the like. 2. Again, those 
whose nostrils are obstructed by accident (such as a cold) do not 
distinguish any putrid or rancid matter from anything sprinkled 
with rose-water. 3. If those who suffer from a cold blow their 
noses violently at the very moment in which they have anything 
fetid or perfumed in their mouth, or on their palate, they instantly 
have a clear perception of the fetor or perfume. These instances 
afford and constitute this species or division of taste, namely, 
that it is in part nothing else than an internal smelling, passing 
and descending through the upper passages of the nostrils to the 
mouth and palate. But, on the other hand, those whose power 
of smelling is deficient or obstructed, perceive what is salt, 
sweet, pungent, acid, rough, and bitter, and the like, as well as 
any one else : so that the taste is clearly something compounded 
of the internal smelling, and an exquisite species of touch which 
we will not here discuss. 



BOOK II.] CONSTITUTIVE INSTANCES. 491 

Again, as another example, let tlie required nature be the 
communication of quality, without intermixture of substance. 
The instance of light will afford or constitute one species of com- 
munication, heat and the magnet another. For the communica- 
tion of light is momentary and immediately arrested upon the 
removal of the original light. But heat, and the magnetic force, 
when once transmitted to or excited in another body, remain 
fixed for a considerable time after the removal of the source. 

In fine, the prerogative of constitutive instances is considerable, 
for they materially assist the definitions (especially in detail) and 
the divisions or partitions of natures, concerning which Plato has 
well said, " He who can properly define and divide is to be con- 
sidered a god." a 

a The collective instances here meant are no other than general 
facts or laws of some degree of generality, and are themselves the 
result oi induction. For example, the system of Jupiter, or Saturn 
with its satellites, is a collective instance, and materially assisted in 
securing the admission of the Copernican system. We have here in 
miniature, and displayed at one view, a system analogous to that of the 
planets about the sun, of which, from the circumstance of our being 
involved in it, and unfavourably situated for seeing it otherwise than in 
detail, we are incapacitated from forming a general idea, but by slow 
and progressive efforts of reason. 

But there is a species of collective instance which Bacon does not 
seem to have contemplated, in w T hich particular phenomena are pre- 
sented in such numbers at once, as to make the induction of their law 
a matter of ocular inspection. For example, the parabolic form as- 
sumed by a iet of water spouted out of a hole is a collective instance of 
the velocities and directions of the motions of all the particles which 
compose it seen together, and which thus leads us without trouble to 
recognize the law of the motion of a projectile. Again, the beautiful 
figures exhibited by sand strewed on regular plates of glass or metal 
set in vibration, are collective instances of an infinite number of points 
which remain at rest while the remainder of the plate vibrates, and in 
consequence afford us an insight into the law which regulates their 
arrangement and sequence throughout the whole surface. The richly 
coloured lemniscates seen around the optic axis of crystals exposed to 
polarized light afford a striking instance of the same kind, pointing at 
once to the general mathematical expression of the law which regulates 
their production. Such collective instances as these lead us to a general 
law by an induction which offers itselt spontaneously, and thus furnish 
advanced posts in philosophical exploration. The laws ol Kepler, 
which Bacon ignored on account of his want of mathematical taste, 
may be cited as a collective instance. The first is, that the planets 
move in elliptical orbits, having the sun for their common focus. The 
second, that about this focus the radius vector of each planet describes 
equal areas in equal times. The third, that the squares of the periodic 
times of the planets are as the cubes of their mean distance from the 
sun. This collective instance "opened the way" to the discovery of 
the Newtonian law of gravitation. Ed. 



492 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK II. 

XXVII. In the sixth rank of prerogative instances we will 
place similar or proportionate instances, which we are also wont 
to call physical parallels, or resemblances. They are such as 
exhibit the resemblances and connection of things, not in minor 
forms (as the constitutive do), but at once in the concrete. They 
are therefore, as it were, the first and lowest steps towards the 
union of nature ; nor do they immediately establish any axiom, 
but merely indicate and observe a certain relation of bodies to 
each other. But although they be not of much assistance in 
discovering forms, yet they are of great advantage in disclosing 
the frame of parts of the universe, upon whose members they 
practise a species of anatomy, and thence occasionally lead us 
gently on to sublime and noble axioms, especially such as relate 
to the construction of the world, rather than to simple natures 
and forms. 

As an example, take the following similar instances : a mirror 
and the eye ; the formation of the ear, and places which return 
an echo. From such similarity, besides observing the resem- 
blance (which is useful for many purposes), it is easy to collect 
and form this axiom. That the organs of" the senses, and bodies 
which produce reflections to the senses, are of a similar nature. 
Again, the understanding once informed of this, rises easily to a 
higher and nobler axiom ; namely, that the only distinction 
between sensitive and inanimate bodies, in those points in which 
they agree and sympathise, is this ; in the former, animal spirit 
is added to the arrangement of the body, in the latter it is want- 
ing. So that there might be as many senses in animals as there 
are points of agreement with inanimate bodies, if the animated 
body were perforated, so as to allow the spirit to have access to 
the limb properly disposed for action, as a fit organ. And, on 
the other hand, there are, without doubt, as many motions in an 
inanimate as there are senses in the animated body, though the 
animal spirit be absent. There must, however, be many more 
motions in inanimate bodies than senses in the animated, from 
the small number of organs of sense. A very plain example of 
this is afforded by pains. For, as animals are liable to many 
kinds and various descriptions of pains (such as those of burning, 
of intense cold, of pricking, squeezing, stretching, and the like), 
so is it most certain, that the same circumstances, as far as 
motion is concerned, happen to inanimate bodies, such as wood 
or stone when burnt, frozen, pricked, cut, bent, bruised, and the 
like ; although there be no sensation, owing to the absence of 
animal spirit. 

Again, wonderful as it may appear, the roots and branches of 
trees are similar instances. For every vegetable swells and 
throws out its constituent parts towards the circumference, both 
upwards and downwards. And there is no difference between 



BOOK II.] SIMILAR INSTANCES. 493 

the roots and branches, except that the root is buried in the 
earth, and the branches are exposed to the air and sun. For if 
one take a young and vigorous shoot, and bend it down to a 
small portion of loose earth, although it be not fixed to the 
ground, yet will it immediately produce a root, and not a branch. 
And, vice versa, if earth be placed above, and so forced down 
with a stone or any hard substance, as to confine the plant and 
prevent its branching upwards, it will throw out branches into 
the air downwards. 

The gums of trees, and most rock gems, are similar instances ; 
for both of them are exudations and filtered juices, derived in 
the former instance from trees, in the latter from stones ; the 
brightness and clearness of both arising from a delicate and 
accurate filtering. For nearly the same reason, the hair of 
animals is less beautiful and vivid in its colour than the plumage 
of most birds, because the juices are less delicately filtered 
through the skin than through the quills. 

The scrotum of males and matrix of females are also similar 
instances ; so that the noble formation which constitutes the dif- 
ference of the sexes appears to differ only as to the one being 
internal and the other external ; a greater degree of heat caus- 
ing the genitals to protrude in the male, whilst the heat of the 
female being too weak to effect this, they are retained in- 
ternally. 

The fins of fishes and the feet of quadrupeds, or the feet and 
wings of birds, are similar instances ; to which Aristotle adds 
the four folds in the motion of serpents ; b so that in the forma- 
tion of the universe, the motion of animals appears to be chiefly 
effected by four joints or bendings. 

The teeth of land animals, and the beaks of birds, are similar 
instances, whence it is clear, that in all perfect animals there is 
a determination of some hard substance towards the mouth. 

Again, the resemblance and conformity of man to an inverted 
plant is not absurd. For the head is the root of the nerves and 
animal faculties, and the seminal parts are the lowest, not in- 
cluding the extremities of the legs and arms. But in the plant, 
the root (which resembles the head) is regularly placed in the 
lowest, and the seeds in the highest part. c 

Lastly, we must particularly recommend and suggest, that 

b Is not this very hasty generalization ? Do serpents move with 
four folds only ? Observe also the motion of centipedes and other in- 
sects. 

c Shaw states another point of difference between the objects cited 
in the text, — animals having their roots within, while plants have 
theirs without ; for their lacteals nearly correspond with the fibres of 
the roots in plants ; so that animals seem nourished -within themselves 
as plants are without. Ed. 



494 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK II. 

man's present industry in the investigation and compilation of 
natural history be entirely changed, and directed to the reverse 
of the present system. For it has hitherto been active and 
curious in noting the variety of things, and explaining the 
accurate differences of animals, vegetables, and minerals, most 
of which are the mere sport of nature, rather than of any real 
utility as concerns the sciences. Pursuits of this nature are 
certainly agreeable, and sometimes of practical advantage, but 
contribute little or nothing to the thorough investigation of 
nature. Our labour must therefore be directed towards in- 
quiring into and observing resemblances and analogies, both in 
the whole and its parts, for they unite nature, and lay the foun- 
dation of the sciences. 

Here, however, a severe and rigorous caution must be observed, 
that we only consider as similar and proportionate instances, 
those which (as we first observed) point out physical resem- 
blances ; that is, real and substantial resemblances, deeply 
founded in nature, and not casual and superficial, much less 
superstitious or curious ; such as those which are constantly put 
forward by the writers on natural magic (the most idle of men, 
and who are scarcely fit to be named in connection with such 
serious matters as we now treat of), who, with much vanity and 
folly, describe, and sometimes too, invent, unmeaning resem- 
blances and sympathies. 

But leaving such to themselves, similar instances are not to 
be neglected, in the greater portions of the world's conformation; 
such as Africa and the Peruvian continent, which reaches to the 
Straits of Magellan ; both of which possess a similar isthmus 
and similar capes, a circumstance not to be attributed to mere 
accident. 

Again, the new and old world are both of them broad and 
expanded towards the north, and narrow and pointed towards 
the south. 

Again, we have very remarkable similar instances in the in- 
tense cold, towards the middle regions (as it is termed) of the 
air, and the violent fires which are often found to burst from 
subterraneous spots, the similarity consisting in both being ends 
and extremes ; the extreme of the nature of cold, for instance, is 
towards the boundary of heaven, and that of the nature of heat 
towards the centre of the earth, by a similar species of opposi- 
tion or rejection of the contrary nature. 

Lastly, in the axioms of the sciences, there is a similarity of 
instances worthy of observation. Thus the rhetorical trope 
which is called surprise, is similar to that of music termed the 
declining of a cadence. Again, — the mathematical postulate, 
that things which are equal to the same are equal to one another, 
is similar to the form of the syllogism in logic, which unites 



BOOK II.] SINGULAR INSTANCES. 495 

things agreeing in the middle term. d Lastly, a certain degree 
of sagacity in collecting and searching for physical points of 
similarity, is very useful in many respects. 6 

XXVIII. In the seventh rank of prerogative instances, we 
will place singular instances, which we are also wont to call 
irregular or heteroclite (to borrow a term from the grammarians). 
They are such as exhibit bodies in the concrete, of an apparently 
extravagant and separate nature, agreeing but little with other 
things of the same species. For, whilst the similar instances 
resemble each other, those we now speak of are only like them- 
selves. Their use is much the same with that of clandestine in- 
stances : they bring out and unite nature, and discover genera or 
common natures, which must afterwards be limited by real 
differences. Nor should we desist from inquiry, until the pro- 
perties and qualities of those things, which may be deemed 
miracles, as it were, of nature, be reduced to, and comprehended 
in, some form or certain law; so that all irregularity or sin- 
gularity may be found to depend on some common form ; and 
the miracle only consists in accurate differences, degree, and 
rare coincidence, not in the species itself. Man's meditation 
proceeds no farther at present, than just to consider things of 
this kind as the secrets and vast efforts of nature, without an 
assignable cause, and, as it were, exceptions to general rules. 

As examples of singular instances, we have the sun and moon 
amongst the heavenly bodies; the magnet amongst minerals; 
quicksilver amongst metals ; the elephant amongst quadrupeds ; 
the venereal sensation amongst the different kinds of touch ; the 

d Bacon falls into an error here in regarding the syllogism as some- 
thing distinct from the reasoning faculty, and only one of its forms. 
It is not generally true that the syllogism is only a form of reasoning 
by which we unite ideas which accord with the middle term. This 
agreement is not even essential to accurate syllogisms ; when the rela- 
tion of the two things compared to the third is one of equality or 
similitude, it of course follows that the two things compared may be 
pronounced equal, or like to each other. But if the relation between 
these terms exist in a different form, then it is not true that the two 
extremes stand in the same relation to each other as to the middle 
term. For instance, if A is double ot B, and B double of c, then A is 
quadruple of c. But then the relation of A to c is different from that 
of a to b and of b to c. Ed. 

e Comparative anatomy is full of analogies of this kind. Those be- 
tween natural and artificial productions are well worthy of attention, 
and sometimes lead to important discoveries. By observing an analogy 
of this kind between the plan used in hydraulic engines for preventing 
the counter-current of a fluid, and a similar contrivance in the blood- 
vessels, Harvey was led to the discovery of the circulation of the 
blood. Ed. 



496 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK II. 

scent of sporting dogs amongst those of smell. The letter S, 
too, is considered by the grammarians as sui generis, from its 
easily uniting with double or triple consonants, which no other 
letter will. These instances are of great value, because they ex- 
cite and keep alive inquiry, and correct an understanding 
depraved by habit and the common course of things. 

XXIX. In the eighth rank of prerogative instances, we will 
place deviating instances, such as the errors of nature, or 
strange and monstrous objects, in which nature deviates and 
turns from her ordinary course. For the errors of nature differ 
from singular instances, inasmuch as the latter are the miracles 
of species, the former of individuals. Their use is much the 
same, for they rectify the understanding in opposition to habit, 
and reveal common forms. For with regard to these, also, we 
must not desist from inquiry, till we discern the cause of the 
deviation. The cause does not, however, in such cases rise to a 
regular form, but only to the latent process towards such a form. 
For he who is acquainted with the paths of nature, will more 
readily observe her deviations; and, vice versa, he who has learnt 
her deviations, will be able more accurately to describe her 
paths. 

They differ again from singular instances, by being much 
more apt for practice and the operative branch. For it would 
be very difficult to generate new species, but less so to vary 
known species, and thus produce many rare and unusual results/ 
The passage from the miracles of nature to those of art is easy ; 
for if nature be once seized in her variations, and the cause be 
manifest, it will be easy to lead her by art to such deviation as 
she was at first led to by chance ; and not only to that but 
others, since deviations on the one side lead and open the way to 
others in every direction. Of this we do not require any exam- 
pies, since they are so abundant. For a compilation, or par- 
ticular natural history, must be made of all monsters and 
prodigious births of nature ; of everything, in short, which is 
new, rare, and unusual in nature. This should be done with a 
rigorous selection, so as to be worthy of credit. Those are most 
to be suspected which depend upon superstition, as the prodigies 
of Livy, and those perhaps, but little less, which are found in the 
works of writers on natural magic, or even alchymy, and the 
like ; for such men, as it were, are the very suitors and lovers 
of fables ; but our instances should be derived from some grave 
and credible history, and faithful narration. 

XXX. In the ninth rank of prerogative instances, we will 

f This is well illustrated in plants, for the gardener can produce 
endless varieties of any known species, but can never produce a new 
species itself. 






BOOK II.] INSTANCES OF POWER. 497 

place bordering instances, which we are also wont to term parti- 
cipants. They are such as exhibit those species oi bodies which 
appear to be composed oi two species, or to be the rudiments 
between the one and the other. They may well be classed 
with the singular or heteroclite instances ; for in the whole sys- 
tem of things, they are rare and extraordinary. Yet from their 
dignity, they must be treated of and classed separately, for they 
point out admirably the order and constitution of things, and 
suggest the causes of the number and quality of the more com- 
mon species in the universe, leading the understanding from that 
which is, to that which is possible. 

We have examples of them in moss, which is something be- 
tween putrescence and a plants in some comets, which hold 
a place between stars and ignited meteors ; in flying fishes, 
between fishes and birds ; and in bats, between birds and 
quadrupeds. 11 Again, 

Simia quam similis turpissima bestia nobis. 

We have also biformed foetus, mingled species, and the like. 

XXXI. In the tenth rank of prerogative instances, we will 
place the instances of power, or the fasces (to borrow a term from 
the insignia of empire), which we are also wont to call the wit 
or hands of man. These are such works as are most noble and 
perfect, and, as it were, the masterpieces in every art. For since 
our principal object is to make nature subservient to the state 
and wants of man, it becomes us well to note and enumerate the 
works, which have long since been in the power of man, espe- 
cially those which are most polished and perfect : because the 
passage from these to new and hitherto undiscovered works, is 
more easy and feasible. For if any one, after an attentive con- 
templation of such works as are extant, be willing to push for- 
ward in his design with alacrity and vigour, he will undoubtedly 
either advance them, or turn them to something within their 
immediate reach, or even apply and transfer them to some more 
noble purpose. 

JNor is this all : for as the understanding is elevated and raised 
by rare and unusual works of nature, to investigate and discover 
the forms which include them also, so is the same effect fre- 
quently produced by the excellent and wonderful works of art ; 
and even to a greater degree, because the mode of effecting and 
constructing the miracles of art is generally plain, whilst that of 

£ The discoveries of Tournefort have placed moss in the class of plants. 
The fish alluded to below are to be found only in the tropics. Ed. 

h There is, however, no real approximation to birds in either the 
flying-fish or bat, any more than a man approximates to a fish because 
he can swim. The wings oi the flying-lish and bat are mere expansions 
oi skin, bearing no resemblance whatever to those oi birds. 

2 2 k 



498 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK II. 

effecting the miracles of nature is more obscure. Great care, 
however, must be taken, that they do not depress the under- 
standing, and fix it, as it were, to earth. 

For there is some danger, lest the understanding should be 
astonished and chained down, and as it were bewitched, by such 
works of art, as appear to be the very summit and pinnacle of 
human industry, so as not to become familiar with them, but 
rather to suppose that nothing of the kind can be accomplished, 
unless the same means be employed, with perhaps a little more 
diligence, and more accurate preparation. 

JNTow, on the contrary, it may be stated as a fact, that the ways 
and means hitherto discovered and observed, of effecting any 
matter or work, are for the most part of little value, and that all 
really efficient power depends, and is really to be deduced from 
the sources of forms, none of which have yet been discovered. 

Thus (as we have before observed), had any one meditated on 
balistic machines, and battering rams, as they were used by the 
ancients, whatever application he might have exerted, and though 
he might have consumed a whole life in the pursuit, yet would 
he never have hit upon the invention of flaming engines, acting 
by means of gunpowder ; nor would any person, who had made 
woollen manufactories and cotton the subject of his observation 
and reflection, have ever discovered thereby the nature of the 
silkworm or of silk. 

Hence all the most noble discoveries have (if you observe) 
come to light, not by any gradual improvement and extension of 
the arts, but merely by chance ; whilst nothing imitates or anti- 
pates chance (which is wont to act at intervals of ages) but the 
invention of forms. 

There is no necessity for adducing any particular examples of 
these instances, since they are abundant. The plan to be pursued 
is this : all the mechanical, and even the liberal arts (as far as 
they are practical), should be visited and thoroughly examined, 
and thence there should be formed a compilation or particular 
history of the great masterpieces, or most finished works in each, 
as well as of the mode of carrying them into effect. 

Nor do we confine the diligence to be used in such a compila- 
tion to the leading works and secrets only of every art, and such 
as excite wonder ; for wonder is engendered by rarity, since that 
which is rare, although it be compounded of ordinary natures, 
always begets wonder. 

On the contrary, that which is really wonderful, from some 
specific difference distinguishing it from other species, is carelessly 
observed, if it be but familiar. Yet the singular instances of art 
should be observed no less than those of nature, which we have 
before spoken of: and as in the latter we have classed the sun, 
the moon, the magnet, and the like, all of them most familiar to 



BOOK II.] SINGULAR INSTANCES. 499 

us, but yet in their nature singular, so should we proceed with 
the singular instances of art. 

.For example : paper, a very common substance, is a singular 
instance of art; for if you consider the subject attentively, you 
will find that artificial substances are either woven by straight 
and transverse lines, as silk, woollen, or linen cloth, and the like; 
or coagulated from concrete juices, such as brick, earthenware, 
glass, enamel, porcelain, and the like, which admit of a polish if 
they be compact, but if not, become hard without being polished; 
all which latter substances are brittle, and not adherent or tena- 
cious. On the contrary, paper is a tenacious substance, which 
can be cut and torn, so as to resemble and almost rival the skin 
of any animal, or the leaf of vegetables, and the like works of 
nature ; being neither brittle like glass, nor woven like cloth, but 
having fibres and not distinct threads, just as natural substances, 
so that scarcely anything similar can be found amongst artificial 
substances, and it is absolutely singular. And in artificial works 
we should certainly prefer those which approach the nearest to 
an imitation of nature, or, on the other hand, powerfully govern 
and change her course. 

Again, in these instances which we term the wit and hands of 
man, charms and conjuring should not be altogether despised, 
for although mere amusements, and of little use, yet they may 
afford considerable information. 

Lastly, superstition and magic (in its common acceptation) 
are not to be entirely omitted ; for although they be overwhelmed 
by a mass of lies and fables, yet some investigation should be 
made, to see if there be really any latent natural operation in 
them ; as in fascination, and the fortifying of the imagination, 
the sympathy of distant objects, the transmission of impressions 
from spirit to spirit no less than from body to body, and the like. 

XXXII. From the foregoing remarks, it is clear that the five 
last species of instances (the similar, singular, deviating, and bor- 
dering instances, and those of power) should not be reserved for 
the investigation of any given nature, as the preceding and many 
of the succeeding instances must, but a collection of them should 
be made at once, in the style of a particular history, so that thej^ 
may arrange the matter which enters the understanding, and 
correct its depraved habit, for it is necessarily imbued, corrupted, 
perverted, and distorted by daily and habitual impressions. 

They are to be used, therefore, as a preparative, for the pur- 
pose of rectifying and purifying the understanding ; for whatever 
withdraws it from habit, levels and planes down its surface for 
the reception of the dry and pure light of true notions. 

These instances, moreover, level and prepare the way for the 
operative branch, as we will mention in its proper place when 
speaking of the practical deductions. 

2k2 



600 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK II. 

XXXIII. In the eleventh rank of prerogative instances we 
will place accompanying and hostile instances. These are such 
as exhibit any body or concrete, where the required nature is 
constantly found, as an inseparable companion, or, on the con- 
trary, where the required nature is constantly avoided, and ex- 
cluded from attendance, as an enemy. From these instances 
may be formed certain and universal propositions, either affirma- 
tive or negative; the subject of which will be the concrete 
body, and the predicate the required nature. For particular 
propositions are by no means fixed, when the required nature is 
found to fluctuate and change in the concrete, either approaching 
and acquired, or receding and laid aside. Hence particular pro- 
positions have no great prerogative, except in the case of migra- 
tion, of which we have spoken above. Yet such particular pro- 
positions are of great use, when compared with the universal, as 
will be mentioned in its proper place. JNor do we require ab- 
solute affirmation or negation, even in universal propositions, for 
if the exceptions be singular or rare, it is sufficient for our pur- 
pose. 

The use of accompanying instances is to narrow the affirmative 
of form ; for as it is narrowed by the migrating instances, where 
the form must necessarily be something communicated or de- 
stroyed by the act of migration, so it is narrowed by accompany- 
ing instances, where the form must necessarily be something which 
enters into the concretion of the body, or, on the contrary, is 
repugnant to it ; and one who is well acquainted with the con- 
stitution or formation of the body, will not be far from bringing 
to light the form of the required nature. 

For example : let the required nature be heat. Flame is an 
accompanying instance ; for in water, air, stone, metal, and many 
other substances, heat is variable, -and can approach or retire ; 
but all flame is hot, so that heat always accompanies the concre- 
tion of flame. We have no hostile instance of heat ; for the 
senses are unacquainted with the interior of the earth, and there 
is no concretion of any known body which is not susceptible of 
heat. 

Again, let solidity be the required nature. Air is an hos- 
tile instance ; for metals may be liquid or solid, so may glass ; 
even water may become solid by congelation, but air cannot 
become solid or lose its fluidity. 

With regard to these instances of fixed propositions, there are 
two points to be observed, which are of importance. First, that 
if there be no universal affirmative or negative, it be carefully 
noted as not existing. Thus, in heat, we have observed that there 
exists no universal negative, in such substances, at least, as have 
come to our knowledge. Again, if the required nature be eter- 
nity or incorruptibility, we have no universal affirmative within 



BOOK II.] SUBJUNCTIVE INSTANCES. 501 

our sphere, for these qualities cannot be predicated of any bodies 
below the heavens, or above the interior of the earth. Secondly, 
to our general propositions as to any concrete, whether affirmative 
or negative, we should subjoin the concretes which appear to 
approach nearest to the non-existing substances ; such as the 
most gentle or least-burning flames in heat, or gold in incor- 
ruptibility, since it approaches nearest to it. For they all serve 
to show the limit of existence and non-existence, and circumscribe 
forms, so that they cannot wander beyond the conditions of 
matter. 

XXXIV. In the twelfth rank of prerogative instances, we 
will class those subjunctive instances, of which we spoke in the 
last aphorism, and which we are also wont to call instances of 
extremity or limits ; for they are not only serviceable when sub- 
joined to fixed propositions, but also of themselves and from their 
own nature. They indicate with sufficient precision the real 
divisions of nature, and measures oi things, and the " how far " 
nature effects or allows of anything, and her passage thence to 
something else. Such are gold in weight, iron in hardness, the 
whale in the size of animals, the dog in smell, the flame of gun- 
powder in rapid expansion, and others of a like nature. Nor are 
we to pass over the extremes iu defect, as well as in abundance, 
as spirits of wine in weight, the touchstone in softness, the worms 
upon the skin in the size of animals, and the like. 

XXXV. In the thirteenth rank of prerogative instances, we 
will place those of alliance or union. They are such as mingle 
and unite natures held to be heterogeneous, and observed and 
marked as such in received classifications. 

These instances show that the operation ana effect, which is 
considered peculiar to some one of such heterogeneous natures, 
may also be attributed to another nature styled heterogeneous, 
so as to prove that the difference of the natures is not real nor 
essential, but a mere modification of a common nature. They 
are very serviceable, therefore, in elevating and carrying on the 
mind, from differences to genera, and in removing those phan- 
toms and images of things, which meet it in disguise in concrete 
substances. 

For example : let the required nature be heat. The classi- 
fication of heat into three kinds, that of the celestial bodies, that 
of animals, and that of fire, appears to be settled and admitted ; 
and these kinds of heat, especially one of them compared with 
the other two, are supposed to be different, and clearly hetero- 
geneous in their essence and species, or specific nature, since the 
heat of the heavenly bodies and of animals generates and che- 
rishes, whilst that of fire corrupts and destroys. We have an 
instance of alliance, then, in a very common experiment, that of 
a vine branch admitted into a building where there is a constant 



502 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK II. 

fire, by which the grapes ripen a whole month sooner than in 
the air; so that fruit upon the tree can be ripened by fire, 
although this appear the peculiar effect of the sun. From this 
beginning, therefore, the understanding rejects all essential dif- 
ference, and easily ascends to the investigation of the real dif- 
ferences between the heat of the sun and that of fire, by which 
their operation is rendered dissimilar, although they partake of 
a common nature. 

These differences will be found to be four in number. 1. The 
heat of the sun is much milder and gentler in degree than that of 
fire. 2. It is much more moist in quality, especially as it is 
transmitted to us through the air. 3. Which is the chief point, 
it is very unequal, advancing and increased at one time, retiring 
and diminished at another, which mainly contributes to the 
generation of bodies. For Aristotle rightly asserted, that the 
principal cause of generation and corruption on the surface of 
the earth, was the oblique path of the sun in the zodiac, whence 
its heat becomes very unequal, partly from the alternation of 
night and day, partly from the succession of summer and winter. 
Yet must he immediately corrupt and pervert his discovery, by 
dictating to nature according to his habit, and dogmatically 
assigning the cause of generation to the approach of the sun, and 
that of corruption to its retreat; whilst, in fact, each circum- 
stance indifferently and not respectively contributes both to 
generation and corruption ; for unequal heat tends to generate 
and corrupt, as equable heat does to preserve. 4. The fourth 
difference between the heat of the sun and fire is of great conse- 
quence ; namely, that the sun, gradually, and for a length of 
time, insinuates its effects, whilst those of fire (urged by the 
impatience of man) are brought to a termination in a shorter 
space of time. But if any one were to pay attention to the 
tempering of fire, and reducing it to a more moderate and gentle 
degree (which may be done in various ways), and then were to 
sprinkle and mix a degree of humidity with it ; and, above all, 
were to imitate the sun in its inequality; and lastly, were patiently 
to suffer some delay (not such, however, as is proportioned to 
the effects of the sun, but more than men usually admit of in 
those of fire), he would soon banish the notion of any difference, 
and would attempt, or equal, or perhaps sometimes surpass the 
effect of the sun, by the heat of fire. A like instance of alliance 
is that of reviving butterflies, benumbed and nearly dead from 
cold, by the gentle warmth of fire ; so that fire is no less able to 
revive animals than to ripen vegetables. We may also mention 
the celebrated invention of Fracastorius, of applying a pan con- 
siderably heated to the head in desperate cases of apoplexy, 
which clearly expands the animal spirits, when compressed and 
almost extinguished by the humours and obstructions of the 



BOOK II.] INSTANCES OF ALLIANCE. „ 503 

brain,- and excite3 them to action, as the fire would operate on 
water or air, and in the result produces life. Eggs are sometimes 
hatched by the heat of fire, an exact imitation of animal heat ; 
and there are many instances of the like nature, so that no one 
can doubt that the heat of fire, in many cases, can be modified 
till it resemble that of the heavenly bodies and of animals. 

Again, let the required natures be motion and rest. There 
appears to be a settled classification, grounded on the deepest 
philosophy, that natural bodies either revolve, move in a straight 
line, or stand still and rest. For there is either motion without 
limit, or continuance within a certain limit, or a translation to- 
wards a certain limit. The eternal motion of revolution appears 
peculiar to the heavenly bodies, rest to this our globe, and the 
other bodies (heavy and light, as they are termed, that is to say, 
placed out of their natural position) are borne in a straight line 
to masses or aggregates which resemble them, the light towards 
the heaven, the heavy towards the earth ; and all this is very 
fine language. 

But we have an instance of alliance in low comets, which 
revolve, though far below the heavens; and the fiction of Aristotle, 
of the comet being fixed to, or necessarily following some star, 
has been long since exploded ; not only because it is improbable 
in itself, but from the evident fact of the discursive and irregular 
motion of comets througli various parts of the heavens. 1 

Another instance of alliance is that of the motion of air, 
which appears to revolve from east to west within the tropics, 
where the circles of revolution are the greatest. 

The flow and ebb of the sea would perhaps be another instance, 
if the water were once found to have a motion of revolution, 
though slow and hardly perceptible, from east to west, subject, 
however, to a reaction twice a day. If this be so, it is clear that 
the motion of revolution is not confined to the celestial bodies, 
but is shared, also, by air and water. 

Again, — the supposed peculiar disposition of light bodies to rise 
is rather shaken; and here we may find an instance of alliance in 
a water bubble. For if air be placed under water, it rises rapidly 
towards the surface by that striking motion (as Democritus terms 
it) with which the descending water strikes the air and raises it, 
not by any struggle or effort of the air itself; and when it has 
reached the surface of the water, it is prevented from ascending 

1 Seneca was a sounder astronomer than Bacon. He ridiculed the 
idea of the motion of any heavenly bodies being irregular, and predicted 
that the day would come, when the laws which guided the revolution 
oi these bodies would be proved to be identical with those which con- 
trolled the motions of the planets. The anticipation was realized hy 
Newton. Ed. 



504 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK IL 

any further, by the slight resistance it meets with in the water, 
which does not allow an immediate separation of its parts, so 
that the tendency oi the air to rise must be very slight. 

Again, let the required nature be weight. It is certainly a 
received classification, that dense and solid bodies are borne to- 
wards the centre of the earth, and rare and light bodies to the 
circumference of the heavens, as their appropriate places. As 
far as relates to places (though these things have much weight in 
the schools), the notion of there being any determinate place is 
absurd and puerile. Philosophers trifle, therefore, when they 
tell you, that if the earth were perforated, heavy bodies would 
stop on their arrival at the centre. This centre would indeed be 
an efficacious nothing, or mathematical point, could it affect 
bodies or be sought by them, for a body is not acted upon except 
by a body. k In fact, this tendency to ascend and descend is 
either in the conformation of the moving body, or in its harmony 
and sympathy with another body. But if any dense and solid 
body be found, which does not, however, tend towards the earth, 
the classification is at an end. Now, if we allow of Gilbert's 
opinion, that the magnetic power of the earth, in attracting 
heavy bodies, is not extended beyond the limit of its peculiar 
virtue (which operates always at a fixed distance and no further), 1 
and this be proved by some instance, such an instance will be 
one of alliance in our present subject. The nearest approach to 
it is that of waterspouts, frequently seen by persons navigating 
the Atlantic towards either of the Indies. For the force and 
mass of the water suddenly effused by waterspouts, appears to 
be so considerable, that the water must have been collected pre- 
viously, and have remained fixed where it was formed, until it 
was afterwards forced down by some violent cause, rather than 
made to fall by the natural motion of gravity : so that it may be 
conjectured that a dense and compact mass, at a great distance 
from the earth, may be suspended as the earth itself is, and would 
not fall, unless forced down. We do not, however, affirm this as 

k But see Bacon's own corollary at the end of the Instances of 
Divorce, Aphorism xxxvii. If Bacon's remark be accepted, the censure 
will fall upon Newton and the system so generally received at the 
present day. It is, however, unjust, as the centre of which Newton so 
often speaks is not a point with an active inherent lorce ; but only the 
result of all the particular and reciprocal attractions ol the different 
parts of the planet acting upon one spot. It is evident, that ii all these 
forces were united in this centre, that the sum would be equal to all 
their partial effects. Ed, 

1 Since Newton's discovery of the law of gravitation, we find that 
the attractive force ot the earth must extend to an infinite distance. 
Bacon himself alludes to the operation of this attractive force at great 
distances in the Instances of the Rod, Aphorism xlv. 



BOOK II.] INSTANCES OF THE CROSS. 505 

certain. In the mean while, both in this respect and many 
others, it will readily be seen how deficient we are in natural 
history, since we are forced to have recourse to suppositions for 
examples, instead of ascertained instances. 

Again, let the required nature be the discursive power of the 
mind. The classification of human reason and animal instinct 
appears to be perfectly correct. Yet there are some instances of 
the actions of brutes which seem to show that they, too, can 
syllogise. Thus it is related, that a crow, which had nearly 
perished from thirst in a great drought, saw some water in the 
hollow trunk of a tree, but as it was too narrow for him to get 
into it, he continued to throw in pebbles, which made the water 
rise till he could drink; and it afterwards became a proverb. 

Again, let the required nature be vision. The classification 
appears real and certain, which considers light as that which is 
originally visible, and confers the power of seeing ; and colour, 
as being secondarily visible, and not capable of being seen with- 
out light, so as to appear a mere image or modification of light. 
Yet there are instances oi alliance in each respect ; as in snow 
when in great quantities, and in the flame of sulphur ; the one 
being a colour originally and in itself light, the other a light 
verging 1 towards colour. 111 

XXXVI. In the fourteenth rank of prerogative instances, we 
will place the instances of the cross, borrowing our metaphor 
from the crosses erected where two roads meet, to point out the 
different directions. We are wont also to call them decisive and 
judicial instances, and in some cases instances of the oracle and 
of command. Their nature is as follows. When in investigating 
any nature the understanding is, at it were, balanced, and un- 
certain to which of two or more natures the cause ol the required 
nature should be assigned, on account of the frequent and usual 
concurrence of several natures, the instances of the cross show 
that the union of one nature with the required nature is firm 
and indissoluble, whilst that of the other is unsteady and 
separable ; by which means the question is decided, and the 
first is received as the cause, whilst the other is dismissed and 
rejected. Such instances, therefore, afford great light, and are 
of great weight, so that the course of interpretation sometimes 
terminates, and is completed in them. Sometimes, however, 
they are found amongst the instances already observed, but 
they are generally new, being expressly and purposely sought 
for and applied, and brought to light only by attentive and 
active diligence. 

For example : let the required nature be the flow and ebb of 
the sea, which is repeated twice a day, at intervals of six hours 

m Snow reflects light, but is not a source of light. 



506 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK II. 

between each advance and retreat, with some little difference, 
agreeing with the motion of the moon. We have here the fol- 
lowing cross-ways. 

This motion must be occasioned either by the advancing and 
the retiring of the sea, like water shaken in a basin, which leaves 
one side while it washes the other ; or by the rising of the sea 
from the bottom, and its again subsiding, like boiling water. 
But a doubt arises, to which of these causes we should assign 
the flow and ebb. If the first assertion be admitted, it follows, 
that when there is a flood on one side, there must at the same 
time be an ebb on another, and the question therefore is reduced 
to this. Now Acosta, and some others, after a diligent inquiry, 
have observed that the flood tide takes place on the coast of 
Florida, and the opposite coasts of Spain and Africa, at the 
same time, as does also the ebb ; and that there is not, on the 
contrary, a flood tide at Florida when there is an ebb on the 
coasts of Spain and Africa. Yet if one consider the subject 
attentively, this does not prove the necessity of a rising motion, 
nor refute the notion of a progressive motion. For the motion 
may be progressive, and yet inundate the opposite shores of a 
channel at the same time ; as if the waters be forced and driven 
together from some other quarter, for instance, which takes place 
in rivers, for they flow and ebb towards each bank at the same 
time, yet their motion is clearly progressive, being that of the 
waters from the sea entering their mouths. So it may happen, 
that the waters coming in a vast body from the eastern Indian 
Ocean are driven together, and forced into the channel of the 
Atlantic, and therefore inundate both coasts at once. We must 
inquire, therefore, if there be any other channel by which the 
waters can at the same time sink and ebb : and the Southern 
Ocean at once suggests itself, which is not less than the Atlantic, 
but rather broader and more extensive than is requisite for this 
effect. 

We at length arrive, then, at an instance of the cross, which 
is this. If it be positively discovered, that when the flood sets 
in towards the opposite coasts of Florida and Spain in the 
Atlantic, there is at the same time a flood tide on the coasts of 
Peru and the back part of China, in the Southern Ocean, then 
assuredly, from this decisive instance, we must reject the asser- 
tion, that the flood and ebb of the sea, about which we inquire, 
takes place by progressive motion ; for no other sea or place is 
left where there can be an ebb. But this may most easily be 
learnt, by inquiring of the inhabitants of Panama and Lima 
(where the two oceans are separated by a narrow isthmus), 
whether the flood and ebb takes place on the opposite sides of 
the isthmus at the same time, or the reverse. This decision or 
rejection appears certain, if it be granted that the earth is fixed; 



BOOK II.] INSTANCES OF THE CROSS. 507 

but if the earth revolves, it may perhaps happen, that from the un- 
equal revolution (as regards velocity) of the earth and the waters 
of the sea, there may be a violent forcing of the waters into a 
mass, forming the flood, and a subsequent relaxation of them 
(when they can no longer bear the accumulation), forming the 
ebb. A separate inquiry must be made into this. Even with 
this hypothesis, however, it remains equally true, that there 
must be an ebb somewhere, at the same time that there is a flood 
in another quarter. 

Again, let the required nature be the latter of the two motions 
we have supposed ; namely, that of a rising and subsiding motion, 
if it should happen that upon diligent examination the pro- 
gressive motion be rejected. We have, then, three ways before 
us, with regard to this nature. The motion, by which the 
waters raise themselves, and again fall back, in the floods and 
ebbs, without the addition of any other water rolled towards 
them, must take place in one of the three following ways. 
Either the supply of water emanates from the interior of the 
earth, and returns back again; or there is really no greater 
quantity of water, but the same water (without any augmentation 
of its quantity) is extended or rarefied, so as to occupy a greater 
space and dimension, and again contracts itself; or there is 
neither an additional supply nor any extension, but the same 
waters (with regard to quantity, density, or rarity) raise them- 
selves and fall from sympathy, by some magnetic power attract- 
ing and calling them up, as it were, from above. Let us then 
(passing over the first two motions) reduce the investigation to 
the last, and inquire if there be any such elevation of the water 
by sympathy or a magnetic force ; and it is evident, in the first 
place, that the whole mass of water being placed in the trench 
or cavity of the sea, cannot be raised at once, because there 
would not be enough to cover the bottom, so that if there be 
any tendency of this kind in the water to raise itself, yet it 
would be interrupted and checked by the cohesion of things, or 
(as the common expression is) that there may be no vacuum. 
The water, therefore, must rise on one side, and for that reason 
be diminished and ebb on another. But it will again necessarily 
follow that the magnetic power not being able to operate on the 
whole, operates most intensely on the centre, so as to raise the 
waters there, which, when thus raised successively, desert and 
abandon the sides. n 

We at length arrive, then, at an instance of the cross, which is 
this : if it be found, that during the ebb the surface of the 
waters at sea is more curved and round, from the waters rising 
in the middle, and sinking at the sides or coast, and if, during a 

n Bacon's sagacity here foreshadows NewLon's theory of the tides. 



508 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK II. 

flood, it be more even and level, from the waters returning to 
their former position, then assuredly, by this decisive instance, 
the raising of them by a magnetic force can be admitted ; if 
otherwise, it must be entirely rejected. It is not difficult to make 
the experiment (by sounding in straits), whether the sea be deeper 
towards the middle in ebbs, than in floods. But it must be 
observed, if this be the case, that (contrary to common opinion) 
the waters rise in ebbs, and only return to their former position 
in floods, so as to bathe and inundate the coast. 

Again, let the required nature be the spontaneous motion of 
revolution, and particularly, whether the diurnal motion, by 
which the sun and stars appear to us to rise and set, be a real 
motion of revolution in the heavenly bodies, or only apparent in 
them, and real in the earth. There may be an instance of the 
cross of the following nature. If there be discovered any 
motion in the ocean from east to west, though very languid and 
weak, and if the same motion be discovered rather more swift 
in the air (particularly within the tropics, where it is more per- 
ceptible from the circles being greater). If it be discovered also 
in the low comets, and be already quick and powerful in them ; 
if it be found also in the planets, but so tempered and regulated 
as to be slower in those nearest the earth, and quicker in those 
at the greatest distance, being quickest of all in the heavens, 
then the diurnal motion should certainly be considered as real 
in the heavens, and that of the earth must be rejected ; for 
it will be evident that the motion from east to west is part 
of the system of the world and universal ; since it is most rapid 
in the height of the heavens, and gradually grows weaker, till 
it stops and is extinguished in rest at the earth. 

Again, let the required nature be that other motion of revolu- 
tion, so celebrated amongst astronomers, which is contrary to 
the diurnal, namely, from west to east, — and which the ancient 
astronomers assign to the planets, and even to the starry sphere, 
but Copernicus and his followers to the earth also, — and let it be 
examined whether any such motion be found in nature, or it be 
rather a fiction and hypothesis for abridging and facilitating cal- 
culation, and for promoting that fine notion of effecting the 
heavenly motions by perfect circles ; for there is nothing which 
proves such a motion in heavenly objects to be true and real, 
either in a planet's not returning in its diurnal motion to the 
same point of the starry sphere, or in the pole of the zodiac 
being different from that of the world, which two circumstances 
have occasioned this notion. For the first phenomenon is well 
accounted for by the spheres overtaking or falling behind each 
other, and the second by spiral lines; so that the inaccuracy of 
the return and declination to the tropics may be rather modifica- 
tions of the one diurnal motion than contrary motions, or about 



BOOK II.] INSTANCES OF THE CROSS. 509 

different poles. And it is most certain, if we consider ourselves 
for a moment as part of the vulgar (setting aside the fictions of 
astronomers and the school, who are wont undeservedly to at- 
tack the senses in many respects, and to affect obscurity), that 
the apparent motion is such as we have said, a model of which 
we have sometimes caused to be represented by wires in a sort 
of a machine. 

We may take the following instances of the cross upon this 
subject. If it be found in any history worthy ot credit, that 
there has existed any comet, high or low, which has not revolved 
in manifest harmony (however irregularly) with the diurnal mo- 
tion, then we may decide so far as to allow such a motion to be 
possible in nature. But if nothing of the sort be found, it must be 
suspected, and recourse must be had to other instances of the cross. 

Again, let the required nature be weight or gravity. Heavy 
and ponderous bodies must, either of their own nature, tend 
towards the centre of the earth by their peculiar formation, or 
must be attracted and hurried by the corporeal mass of the 
earth itself, as being an assemblage of similar bodies, and be 
drawn to it by sympathy. But if the latter be the cause, it 
follows that the nearer bodies approach to the earth, the more 
powerfully and rapidly they must be borne towards it, and the 
further they are distant, the more faintly and slowly (as is the 
case in magnetic attractions), and that this must happen within 
a given distance; so that if they be separated at such a distance 
from the earth that the power of the earth cannot act upon 
them, they will remain suspended like the earth, and not fall 
at all.° 

The following instance of the cross may be adopted. Take a 
clock moved by leaden weights, p and another by a spring, and 

° The error in the text arose from Bacon's impression that the earth 
was immoveable. It is evident, since gravitation acts at an intinite 
distance, that no such point could be found ; and even supposing the 
impossible point of equilibrium discovered, the body could not maintain 
its position an instant, but would be hurried, at the first movement of 
the heavenly bodies, in the direction of the dominant gravitating 
power. Ed. 

p Fly clocks are referred to in the text, not pendulum clocks, which 
were not known in England till 1662. The former, though clumsy and 
rude in their construction, still embodied sound mechanical principles. 
The comparison of the effect of a spring with that of a weight in pro- 
ducing certain motions in certain times on altitudes and in mines, has 
recently been tried by Professors Airy and Whewell in Dalcoath mine, 
by means of a pendulum, which is only a weight moved by gravity, 
and a chronometer balance moved and regulated by a spring. In his 
thirty-seventh Aphorism, Bacon also speaks of gravity as an incorporeal 
power, acting at a distance, and requiring time for its transmission ; 



510 NOVUM OR'GANUM. [BOOK II. 

let them be set well together, so that one be neither quicker nor 
slower than the other ; then let the clock moved by weights be 
placed on the top of a very high church, and the other be kept 
below, and let it be well observed, if the former move slower 
than it did, from the diminished power of the weights. Let the 
same experiment be made at the bottom of mines worked to a 
considerable depth, in order to see whether the clock move more 
quickly from the increased power of the weights. But if this 
power be found to diminish at a height, and to increase in sub- 
terraneous places, the attraction of the corporeal mass of the 
earth may be taken as the cause of weight. 

Again, let the required nature be the polarity of the steel 
needle when touched with the magnet. We have these two ways 
with regard to this nature : — Either the touch of the magnet 
must communicate polarity to the steel towards the north and 
south, or else it may only excite and prepare it, whilst the actual 
motion is occasioned by the presence of the earth, which Gilbert 
considers to be the case, and endeavours to prove with so much 
labour. The particulars he has inquired into with such inge- 
nious zeal amount to this : — 1. An iron bolt placed for a long 
time towards the north and south acquires polarity from this 
habit, without the touch of the magnet, as if the earth itself 
operating but weakly from its distance (for the surface or outer 

a consideration which occurred at a later period to Laplace in one of 
his most delicate investigations. 

Crucial instances, as Herschel remarks, afford the readiest and 
securest means of eliminating extraneous causes, and deciding between 
the claims of rival hypotheses ; especially when these, running parallel to 
each other, in the explanation of great classes of phenomena, at length 
come to be placed at issue upon a single fact. A curious example is 
given by M. Fresnel, as decisive in his mind of the question between 
the two great theories on the nature of light, which, since the time of 
Newton and Huyghens have, divided philosophers. When two very 
clean glasses are laid one on the other, if they be not perfectly flat, 
but one or both, in an almost imperceptible degree, convex or prominent, 
beautiful and vivid colours will be seen between them ; and if these be 
viewed through a red glass, their appearance will be that of alternate 
dark and bright stripes. These stripes are formed between the two 
surfaces in apparent contact, and being applicable on both theories, are 
appealed to by their respective supporters as strong confirmatory facts ; 
but there is a difference in one circumstance, according as one or other 
theory is employed to explain them. In the case of the Huyghenian 
theory, the intervals between the bright stripes ought to appear abso- 
lutely black, when a prism is used for the upper glass, in the other half 
bright. This curious case of difference was tried, as soon as the opposing 
consequences of the two theories were noted by M. Fresnel, and the 
result is stated by him to be decisive in favour of that theory which 
makes lierht to consist in the vibrations of an elastic medium. Ed. 



BOOK II.] INSTANCES OF THE CROSS. 

crust of the earth does not, in his opinion, possess the magnetic 
power), yet, by long continued motion, could supply the place of the 
magnet, excite the iron, and convert and change it when excited. 
2. Iron, at a red or white heat, when quenched in a direction 
parallel to the north and south, also acquires polarity without 
the touch of the magnet, as if the parts of iron being put in 
motion by ignition, and afterwards recovering themselves, were, 
at the moment of being quenched, more susceptible and sensitive 
of the power emanating from the earth, than at other times, and 
therefore as it were excited. But these points, though well ob- 
served, do not completely prove his assertion. 

An instance of the cross on this point might be as follows : 
Let a sma]l magnetic globe be taken, and its poles marked, and 
placed towards the east and west, not towards the north and 
south, and let it continue thus. Then let an untouched needle 
be placed over it, and suffered to remain so for six or seven days. 
Now, the needle (for this is not disputed), whilst it remains over 
the magnet, will leave the poles of the world and turn to those 
of the magnet, and therefore, as long as it remains in the above 
position, will turn to the east and west. But if the needle, when 
removed from the magnet and placed upon a pivot, be found 
immediately to turn to the north and south, or even by degrees 
to return thither, then the presence of the earth must be consi- 
dered as the cause, but if it remains turned as at first, towards 
the east and west, or lose its polarity, then that cause must be 
suspected, and farther inquiry made. 

Again, let the required nature be the corporeal substance of 
the moon, whether it be rare, fiery, and aerial (as most of the 
ancient philosophers have thought), or solid and dense (as Gil- 
bert and many of the moderns, with some of the ancients, hold)/ 1 
The reasons for this latter opinion are grounded chiefly upon 
this, that the moon reflects the sun's rays, and that light does 
not appear capable of being reflected except by solids. The 
instances of the cross will therefore (if any) be such as to ex- 
hibit reflection by a rare body, such as flame, if it be but suffi- 
ciently dense. Now, certainly, one of the reasons of twilight is 
the reflection 1 of the rays of the sun by the upper part of the 
atmosphere. We see the sun's rays also reflected on fine even- 
ings by streaks of moist clouds, with a splendour not less, but 

i Bacon plainly, from this passage, was inclined to believe that the 
moon, like the comets, was nothing more than illuminated vapour. The 
Newtonian law, however, has not only established its solidity, but its 
density and weight. A sufficient proof of the former is afforded by 
the attraction of the sea, and the moon's motion round the earth. Ed. 

r Kather the refraction, the sky or air, however, reflects the blue 
rays of light. 



512 NOVUM OBGANUM. [BOOK II. 

perhaps more bright and glorious than that reflected from the 
body of the moon, and yet it is not clear that those clouds have 
formed into a dense body of water. We see, also, that the dark 
air behind the windows at night reflects the light of a candle in 
the same manner as a dense body would do. s The experiment 
should also be made of causing the sun's rays to fall through a 
hole upon some dark and bluish flame. The unconfined rays of 
the sun when falling on faint flames, do certainly appear to 
deaden them, and render them more like white smoke than 
flames. These are the only instances which occur at present of 
the nature of those of the cross, and better perhaps can be found. 
But it must always be observed that reflection is not to be ex- 
pected from flame, unless it be of some depth, for otherwise it 
becomes nearly transparent. This at least may be considered 
certain, that light is always either received and transmitted or 
reflected by an even surface. 

Again, let the required nature be the motion of projectiles 
(such as darts, arrows, and balls) through the air. The school, 
in its usual manner, treats this very carelessly, considering it 
enough to distinguish it by the name of violent motion, from 
that which they term natural, and as far as regards the first 
percussion or impulse, satisfies itself by its axiom, that two 
bodies cannot exist in one place, or there would be a penetration 
of dimensions. With regard to this nature we have these two 
cross-ways : — The motion must arise either from the air carrying 
the projected body, and collecting behind it, like a stream behind 
boats, or the wind behind straws ; or from the parts of the body 
itself not supporting the impression, but pushing themselves 
forward in succession to ease it. Fracastorius, and nearly all those 
who have entered into any refined inquiry upon the subject, 
adopt the first. Nor can it be doubted that the air has some 
effect, yet the other motion is without doubt real, as is clear 
from a vast number of experiments. Amongst others we may 
take this instance of the cross, namely, that a thin plate or wire 
of iron rather stiff, or even a reed or pen split in two, when 
drawn up and bent between the finger and thumb, will leap for- 
ward ; for it is clear that this cannot be attributed to the air's 
being collected behind the body, because the source of motion is 
in the centre of the plate or pen, and not in its extremities. 

Again, let the required nature be the rapid and powerful 
motion of the explosion of gunpowder, by which such vast 

s The polished surface of the glass causes the reflection in this case, 
and not the air ; and a hat or other black surlace, put behind the win- 
dow in the day-time, will enable the glass to reflect distinctly for the 
same reason, namely, that the reflected rays are not mixed and con- 
fused with those transmitted from the other side ot the window. 



BOOK II.] INSTANCES OF THE CROSS. 513 

masses are upheaved, and such weights discharged as we observe 
in large mines and mortars, there are two cross-ways before us 
with regard to this nature. This motion is excited either by the 
mere effort of the body expanding itself when inflamed, or by 
the assisting effort of the crude spirit, which escapes rapidly 
from fire, and bursts violently from the surrounding flame as 
from a prison. The school, however, and common opinion only 
consider the first effort ; for men think that they are great phi- 
losophers when they assert that flame, from the form of the 
element, is endowed with a kind of necessity of occupying a 
greater space than the same body had occupied when in the 
form of powder, and that thence proceeds the motion in ques- 
tion. In the mean time they do not observe, that although this 
may be true, on the supposition of flame being generated, yet 
the generation may be impeded by a weight of sufficient force to 
compress and suffocate it, so that no such necessity exists as 
they assert. They are right, indeed, in imagining that the ex- 
pansion and the consequent emission or removal of the opposing 
body, is necessary if flame be once generated, but such a neces- 
sity is avoided if the solid opposing mass suppress the flame 
before it be generated ; and we in fact see that flame, especially 
at the moment of its generation, is mild and gentle, and requires 
a hollow space where it can play and try its force. The great 
violence of the effect, therefore, cannot be attributed to this 
cause ; but the truth is, that the generation of these exploding 
flames and fiery blasts arises from the conflict of two bodies of a 
decidedly opposite nature, — the one very inflammable, as is the 
sulphur, the other having an antipathy to flame, namely, the 
crude spirit of the nitre ; so that an extraordinary conflict takes 
place whilst the sulphur is becoming inflamed as far as it can 
(for the third body, the willow charcoal, merely incorporates and 
conveniently unites the two others), and the spirit of nitre is 
escaping, as far also as it can, and at the same time expanding 
itself (for air, and all crude substances, and water are expanded 
by heat), fanning thus, in every direction, the flame of the sul- 
phur by its escape and violence, just as if by invisible bellows. 

Two kinds of instances of the cross might here be used, — the 
one of very inflammable substances, such as sulphur and cam- 
phire, naphtha and the like, and their compounds, which take fire 
more readily and easily than gunpowder if left to themselves 
(and this shows that the effort to catch fire does not of itself 
produce such a prodigious effect) ; the other of substances which 
avoid and repel flame, such as all salts ; for we see that when 
they are cast into the fire, the aqueous spirit escapes with a 
crackling noise before flame is produced, which also happens in 
a less degree in stiff leaves, from the escape of the aqueous part 
before the oily part has caught fire. This is more particularly 
2 2 L 



514 NOVUM ORGANUM [BOOK II, 

observed in quicksilver, which is not improperly called mineral 
water, and which, without any inflammation, nearly equals the 
force of gunpowder by simple explosion and expansion, and is 
said, when mixed with gunpowder, to increase its force. 

Again, let the required nature be the transitory nature of 
flame and its momentaneous extinction ; for to us the nature of 
flame does not appear to be fixed or settled, but to be generated 
from moment to moment, and to be every instant extinguished : 
it being clear that those flames which continue and last, do not 
owe their continuance to the same mass of flame, but to a con- 
tinued succession of new flame regularly generated, and that the 
same identical flame does not continue. This is easily shown by 
removing the food or source of the flame, when it at once goes out. 
We have the two following cross-ways with regard to this nature : 
— This momentary nature either arises from the cessation of the 
cause which first produced it, as in light, sounds, and violent 
motions, as they are termed, or flame may be capable, by its own 
nature, of duration, but is subjected to some violence from the 
contrary natures which surround it, and is destroyed. 

We may therefore adopt the following instance of the cross. 
We see to what a height the flames rise in great conflagrations ; 
for as the base of the flame becomes more extensive, its vertex 
is more lofty. It appears, then, that the commencement of the 
extinction takes place at the sides, where the flame is compressed 
by the air, and is ill at ease ; but the centre of the flame, which 
is untouched by the air and surrounded by flame, continues the 
same, and is not extinguished until compressed by degrees by 
the air attacking it from the sides. All flame, therefore, is pyra- 
midal, having its base near the source, and its vertex pointed 
from its being resisted by the air, and not supplied from the 
source. On the contrary, the smoke, which is narrow at the 
base, expands in its ascent, and resembles an inverted pyramid, 
because the air admits the smoke, but compresses the flame ; for 
let no one dream that the lighted flame is air, since they are 
clearly heterogeneous. 

The instance of the cross will be more accurate, if the expe- 
riment can be made by flames of different colours. Take, there- 
fore, a small metal sconce, and place a lighted taper in it, then 
put it in a basin, and pour a small quantity of spirits of wine 
round the sconce, so as not to reach its edge, and light the spirit. 
Now the flame of the spirit will be blue, and that of the taper 
yellow ; observe, therefore, whether the latter (which can easily 
be distinguished from the former by its colour, for flames do not 
mix immediately, as liquids do) continue pyramidal, or tend 
more to a globular figure, since there is nothing to destroy or 
compress it. If the latter result be observed, it must be con- 
sidered as settled, that flame continues positively the same, whilst 



BOOK II.] INSTANCES OF DIVORCE. 515 

inclosed within another flame, and not exposed to the resisting 
force of the air. 

Let this suffice for the instances of the cross. We have dwelt 
the longer upon them in order gradually to teach and accustom 
mankind to judge of nature by these instances, and enlightening 
experiments, and not by probable reasons.* 

XXXVII. We will treat of the instances of divorce as the 
fifteenth of our prerogative instances. They indicate the sepa- 
ration of natures of the most common occurrence. They diner, 
however, from those subjoined to the accompanying instances ; 
for the instances of divorce point out the separation of a particular 
nature from some concrete substance with which it is usually 
found in conjunction, whilst the hostile instances point out the 
total separation of one nature from another. They differ, also, 
from the instances of the cross, because they decide nothing, but 
only inform us that the one nature is capable of being separated 
from the other. They are of use in exposing false forms, and 
dissipating hasty theories derived from obvious facts ; so that 
they add ballast and weight, as it were, to the understanding. 

For instance, let the required natures be those four which 

1 These instances, which Bacon seems to consider as a great discovery, 
are nothing more than disjunctive propositions combined with dilem- 
mas. In proposing to explain an effect, we commence with the enu- 
meration of the different causes which seem connected with its produc- 
tion ; then with the aid of one or more dilemmas, we eliminate each 
of the phenomena accidental to its composition, and conclude with 
attributing the effect to the residue. For instance, a certain phe- 
nomenon (a) is produced either by phenomenon (b) or phenomenon (c) ; 
but c cannot be the cause of a, for it is found in D, E, F, neither of 
which are connected with a. Then the true cause of phenomenon (a) 
must be phenomenon (b). 

This species of reasoning is liable to several paralogisms, against 
which Bacon has not guarded his readers, from the very fact that he 
stumbled into them unwittingly himself. The two principal ones are 
false exclusions and defective enumerations. Bacon, in his survey of 
the causes which are able to concur in producing the phenomena of 
the tides, takes no account of the periodic melting of the Polar ice, or 
the expansion of water by the solar heat : nor does he fare better in 
his exclusions. For the attraction of the planets and the progression 
and retrograde motion communicated by the earth's diurnal revolution, 
can plainly affect the sea together, and have a simultaneous influence 
on its surface. 

Bacon is hardly just or consistent in his censure of Ramus ; the end 
of whose dichotomy was only to render reasoning by dilemma, and 
crucial instances, more certain in their results, by reducing the divisions 
which composed their parts to two sets of contradictory propositions. 
The affirmative or negative of one would then necessarily have led to 
the acceptance or rejection of the other. Ed, 

2h2 



516 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK II. 

Telesius terms associates, and of the same family, namely, heat, 
light, rarity, and mobility, or promptitude to motion ; yet many 
instances of divorce can be discovered between them. Air is rare 
and easily moved, but neither hot nor light ; the moon is light 
but not hot; boiling water is warm but not light; the motion of the 
needle in the compass is swift and active, and yet its substance is 
cold, dense, and opaque ; and there are many similar examples. 

Again, let the required natures be corporeal nature and natural 
action. The latter appears incapable of subsisting without some 
body, yet may we, perhaps, even here find an instance of divorce, 
as in the magnetic motion, which draws the iron to the magnet, 
and heavy bodies to the globe of the earth ; to which we may 
add other actions which operate at a distance. For such action 
takes place in time, by distinct moments, not in an instant ; and 
in space, by regular degrees and distances. There is, therefore, 
some one moment of time and some interval of space, in which 
the power or action is suspended betwixt the two bodies creating 
the motion. Our consideration, then, is reduced to this, whether 
the bodies which are the extremes of motion prepare or alter 
the intermediate bodies, so that the power advances from one 
extreme to the other by succession and actual contact, and 
in the mean time exists in some intermediate body; or whe- 
ther there exists in reality nothing but the bodies, the power, 
and the space ? In the case of the rays of light, sounds, and 
heat, and some other objects which operate at a distance, it is 
indeed probable that the intermediate bodies are prepared and 
altered, the more so because a qualified medium is required for 
their operation. But the magnetic or attractive power admits 
of an indifferent medium, and it is not impeded in any. But if 
that power or action is independent of the intermediate body, it 
follows that it is a natural power or action existmg in a certain 
time and space without any body, since it exists neither in the 
extreme nor in the intermediate bodies. Hence the magnetic 
action may be taken as an instance of divorce of corporeal nature 
and natural action ; to which we may add, as a corollary and an 
advantage not to be neglected, that it may be taken as a proof 
of essence and substance being separate and incorporeal, even by 
those who philosophize according to the senses. For if natural 
power and action emanating from a body can exist at any time 
and place entirely without any body, it is nearly a proof that it 
can also emanate originally from an incorporeal substance ; for 
a corporeal nature appears to be no less necessary for supporting 
and conveying, than for exciting or generating natural action. 

XXXVIII. Next follow five classes of instances which we are 
wont to call by the general term of instances of the lamp, or of 
immediate information. They are such as assist the senses ; for 
since every interpretation of nature sets out from the senses, and 



BOOK II.] INSTANCES OF THE DOOK. 517 

leads, by a regular fixed and well-established road, from the per- 
ceptions of the senses to those of the understanding (which are true 
notions and axioms), it necessarily follows, that in proportion as the 
representatives or ministerings of the senses are more abundant 
and accurate, everything else must be more easy and successful. 

The first of these five sets of instances of the lamp, strengthen, 
enlarge, and correct the immediate operations of the senses ; the 
second reduce to the sphere of the senses such matters as are 
beyond it ; the third indicate the continued process or series of 
such things and motions, as for the most part are only observed 
in their termination, or in periods ; the fourth supply the 
absolute wants of the senses ; the fifth excite their attention and 
observation, and at the same time limit the subtilty of things. 
We will now proceed to speak of them singly. 

XXXIX. In the sixteenth rank, then, of prerogative instances, 
we will place the instances of the door or gate, by which name 
we designate such as assist the immediate action of the senses. It 
is obvious, that sight holds the first rank among the senses, with 
regard to information, for which reason we must seek principally 
helps for that sense. These helps appear to be threefold, either to 
enable it to perceive objects not naturally seen, or to see them from 
a greater distance, or to see them more accurately and distinctly. 

We have an example of the first (not to speak of spectacles 
and the like, which only correct and remove the infirmity of a 
deficient sight, and therefore give no further information) in the 
lately invented microscopes, which exhibit the latent and invi- 
sible minutiae of substances, and their hidden formation and 
motion, by wonderfully increasing their apparent magnitude. 
By their assistance we behold with astonishment the accurate 
form and outline of a flea, moss, and animalculse, as well as their 
previously invisible colour and motion. It is said, also, that an 
apparently straight line, drawn with a pen or pencil, is dis- 
covered by such a microscope to be very uneven and curved, 
because neither the motion of the hand, when assisted by a ruler, 
nor the impression of ink or colour, are really regular, although 
the irregularities are so minute as not to be perceptible without 
the assistance of the microscope. Men have (as is usual in new 
and wonderful discoveries) added a superstitious remark, that 
the microscope sheds a lustre on the works of nature, and dis- 
honour on those of art, which only means that the tissue of 
nature is much more delicate than that of art. For the micro- 
scope is only of use for minute objects, and Democritus, perhaps, 
if he had seen it, would have exulted in the thought of a means 
being discovered for seeing his atom, which he affirmed to be 
entirely invisible. But the inadequacy of these microscopes, for 
the observation of any but the most minute bodies, and even of 
those if parts of a larger body, destroys their utility ; for if the 



518 NOVUM OEGANUM. [BOOK IP 

invention could be extended to greater bodies, or the minute 
parts of greater bodies, so that a piece of cloth would appear like 
a net, and the latent minutiae and irregularities of gems, liquids, 
urine, blood, wounds, and many other things could be rendered 
visible, the greatest advantage would, without doubt, be derived. 

We have an instance of the second kind in the telescope, dis- 
covered by the wonderful exertions of Galileo ; by the assistance 
of which a nearer intercourse may be opened (as by boats or 
vessels) between ourselves and the heavenly objects. For by its 
aid we are assured that the Milky Way is but a knot or constel- 
lation of small stars, clearly defined and separate, which the 
ancients only conjectured to be the case ; whence it appears to be 
capable of demonstration, that the spaces of the planetary orbits 
(as they are termed) are not quite destitute of other stars, but 
that the heaven begins to glitter with stars before we arrive at 
the starry sphere, although they may be too small to be visible 
without the telescope. By the telescope, also, we can behold the 
revolutions of smaller stars round Jupiter, whence it may be con- 
jectured that there are several centres of motion among the stars. 
By its assistance, also, the irregularity of light and shade on the 
moon's surface is more clearly observed and determined, so as to 
allow of a sort of selenography. 11 By the telescope we see the 
spots in the sun, and other similar phenomena ; all. of which are 
most noble discoveries, as far as credit can be safely given to 
demonstrations of this nature, which are on this account very 
suspicious, namely, that experiment stops at these few, and 
nothing further has yet been discovered by the same method, 
among objects equally worthy of consideration. 

We have instances of the third kind in measuring-rods, astro- 
labes, and the like, which do not enlarge, but correct and guide 
the sight. If there be other instances which assist the other 
senses in their immediate and individual action, yet if they add 
nothing further to their information they are not apposite to our 
present purpose, and we have therefore said nothing of them. 

XL. In the seventeenth rank of prerogative instances we will 
place citing instances (to borrow a term from the tribunals), 
because they cite those things to appear, which have not yet ap- 
peared. We are wont also to call them invoking instances, and 
their property is that of reducing to the sphere of the senses 
objects which do not immediately fall within it. 

Objects escape the senses either from their distance, or the 
intervention of other bodies, or because they are not calculated 
to make an impression upon the senses, or because they are not 

11 Pere bnenier first pointed out the spots on the sun's disk, and by 
the marks which they afforded him, computed its revolution to be per- 
formed in twenty-five days and some hours. Ed. 



BOOK II.] CITING INSTANCES. 519 

in sufficient quantity to strike the senses, or because there is not 
sufficient time for their acting upon the senses, or because the 
impression is too violent, or because the senses are previously 
filled and possessed by the object, so as to leave no room for any 
new motion. These remarks apply principally to sight, and next 
to touch, which two senses act extensively in giving information, 
and that too upon general objects, whilst the remaining three 
inform us only, as it were, by their immediate action, and as to 
specific objects. 

There can be no reduction to the sphere of the senses in the 
first case, unless in the place of the object, which cannot be per- 
ceived on account of the distance, there be added or substituted 
some other object, which can excite and strike the sense from a 
greater distance, as in the communication of intelligence by fires, 
bells, and the like. 

In the second case we effect this reduction by rendering those 
things which are concealed by the interposition of other bodies, and 
which cannot easily be laid open, evident to the senses by means 
of that which lies at the surface, or proceeds from the interior ; 
thus the state of the body is judged of by the pulse, urine, &c. 

The third and fourth cases apply to many subjects, and the 
reduction to the sphere of the senses must be obtained from 
every quarter in the investigation of things. There are many 
examples. It is obvious that air, and spirit, and the like, whose 
whole substance is extremely rare and delicate, can neither be 
seen nor touched — a reduction, therefore, to the senses becomes 
necessary in every investigation relating to such bodies. 

Let the required nature, therefore, be the action and motion 
of the spirit enclosed in tangible bodies ; for every tangible body 
with which we are acquainted, contains an invisible and intan- 
gible spirit, over which it is drawn, and which it seems to clothe. 
This spirit being emitted from a tangible substance, leaves the 
body contracted and dry; when retained, it softens and melts it; 
when neither wholly emitted nor retained, it models it, endows 
it with limbs, assimilates, manifests, organizes it, and the like. 
All these points are reduced to the sphere of the senses by mani- 
fest effects. 

For in every tangible and inanimate body the enclosed spirit 
at first increases, and as it were feeds on the tangible parts 
which are most open and prepared for it ; and when it has 
digested and modified them, and turned them into spirit, it 
escapes with them. This formation and increase of spirit is ren- 
dered sensible by the diminution of weight ; for in every desic- 
cation something is lost in quantity, not only of the spirit pre- 
viously existing in the body, but of the body itself, which was 
previously tangible, and has been recently changed, for the spirit 
itself has no weight. The departure or emission of spirit is ren- 



520 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK II. 

dered sensible in the rust of metals, and other putrefactions of a 
like nature, which stop before they arrive at the rudiments of 
life, which belong to the third species of process. x In compact 
bodies the spirit does not find pores and passages for its escape, 
and is therefore obliged to force out, and drive before it, the 
tangible parts also, which consequently protrude, whence arises 
rust and the like. The contraction of the tangible parts, occa- 
sioned by the emission of part of the spirit (whence arises desic- 
cation), is rendered sensible by the increased hardness of the 
substance, and still more by the fissures, contractions, shrivelling, 
and folds of the bodies thus produced. For the parts of wood 
split and contract, skins become shrivelled, and not only that, 
but, if the spirit be emitted suddenly by the heat of the fire, 
become so hastily contracted as to twist and roll themselves up. 

On the contrary, when the spirit is retained, and yet expanded 
and excited by heat or the like (which happens in solid and tena- 
cious bodies), then the bodies are softened, as in hot iron ; or 
How, as in metals ; or melt, as in gums, wax, and the like. The 
contrary effects of heat, therefore (hardening some substances 
and melting others), are easily reconciled, 7 because the spirit is 
emitted in the former, and agitated and retained in the latter ; 
the latter action is that of heat and the spirit, the former that 
of the tangible parts themselves, after the spirit's emission. 

But when the spirit is neither entirely retained nor emitted, 
but only strives and exercises itself, within its limits, and meets 
with tangible parts, which obey and readily follow it wherever it 
leads them, then follows the formation of an organic body, and 
of limbs, and the other vital actions of vegetables and animals. 
These are rendered sensible chiefly by diligent observation of the 
first beginnings, and rudiments or effects of life in animalculse 
sprung from putrefaction, as in the eggs of ants, worms, mosses, 
frogs after rain, &c. Both a mild heat and a pliant substance, 
however, are necessary for the production of life, in order that 
the spirit may neither hastily escape, nor be restrained by the 
obstinacy of the parts, so as not to be able to bend and model 
them like wax. 

Again, the difference of spirit which is important and of effect 
m many points (as unconnected spirit, branching spirit, branch- 
ing and cellular spirit, the first of which is that of all inanimate 

x Rust is now well known to be a chemical combination of oxygen 
with the metal, and the metal when rusty acquires additional weight. 
His theory as to the generation of animals, is deduced from the 
eiToneous notion of the possibility of spontaneous generation (as it was 
termed). See the next paragraph but one. 

7 " Limus ut hie durescit, et haec ut cera liquescit 
Uno eodemque igni." — Yirg. Eel. viii. 



BOOK II.] EXPANSION OF MATTER. 521 

substances, the second of vegetables, and the third of animals), 
is placed, as it were, before the eyes by many reducing 
instances. 

Again, it is clear that the more refined tissue and conformation 
of things (though forming the whole body of visible or tangible 
objects) are neither visible nor tangible. Our information, 
therefore, must here also be derived from reduction to the 
sphere of the senses. But the most radical and primary dif- 
ference of formation depends on the abundance or scarcity of 
matter within the same space or dimensions. For the other 
formations which regard the dissimilarity of the parts contained 
in the same body, and their collocation and position, are 
secondary in comparison with the former. 

Let the required nature then be the expansion or coherence of 
matter in different bodies, or the quantity of matter relative to 
the dimensions of each. For there is nothing in nature more 
true than the twofold proposition, — that nothing proceeds from 
nothing and that nothing is reduced to nothing, but that the 
quantum, or sum total of matter, is constant, and is neither in- 
creased nor diminished. Nor is it less true, that out of this 
given quantity of matter, there is a greater or less quantity, 
contained within the same space or dimensions according to the 
difference of bodies ; as, for instance, water contains more than 
air. So that if any one were to assert that a given content of 
water can be changed into an equal content of air, it is the same 
as if he were to assert that somethiug can be reduced into 
nothing. On the contrary, if any one were to assert that a 
given content of air can be changed into an equal content of 
water, it is the same a3 if he were to assert that something can 
proceed from nothing. From this abundance or scarcity of 
matter are properly derived the notions of density and rarity, 
which are taken in various and promiscuous senses. 

This third assertion may be considered as being also suffi- 
ciently certain ; namely, that the greater or less quantity of 
matter in this or that body, may, by comparison, be reduced to 
calculation, and exact, or nearly exact, proportion. Thus, if one 
should say that there is such an accumulation of matter in a 
given quantity of gold, that it would require twenty-one times 
the quantity in dimension of spirits of wine, to make up the 
same quantity of matter, it would not be far from the truth. 

The accumulation of matter, however, and its relative quantity, 
are rendered sensible by weight ; for weight is proportionate 
to the quantity of matter, as regards the parts of a tangible sub- 
stance, but spirit and its quantity of matter are not to be com- 
puted by weight, which spirit rather diminishes than augments. 

We have made a tolerably accurate table of weight, in which 
we have selected the weights and size of all the metals, the 



522 NOVUM ORGAKUM. [BOOK II. 

principal minerals, stones, liquids, oils, and many other natural 
and artificial bodies : a very useful proceeding both as regards 
theory and practice, and which is capable of revealing many un- 
expected results. Nor is this of little consequence, that it serves 
to demonstrate that the whole range of the variety of tangible 
bodies with which we are acquainted (we mean tolerably close, 
and not spongy, hollow bodies, which are for a considerable part 
filled with air), does not exceed the ratio of one to twenty-one. 
So limited is nature, or at least that part of it to which we are 
most habituated. 

We have also thought it deserving our industry, to try if we 
could arrive at the ratio of intangible or pneumatic bodies to 
tangible bodies, which we attempted by the following contrivance. 
We took a vial capable of containing about an ounce, using a 
small vessel in order to effect the subsequent evaporation with 
less heat. We filled this vial, almost to the neck, with spirits of 
wine, selecting it as the tangible body which, by our table, was 
the rarest, and contained a less quantity of matter in a given 
space than all other tangible bodies which are compact and not 
hollow. Then we noted exactly the weight of the liquid and 
vial. We next took a bladder, containing about two pints, and 
squeezed all the air out of it, as completely as possible, and until 
the sides of the bladder met. We first, however, rubbed the 
bladder gently with oil, so as to make it air-tight, by closing its 
pores with the oil. We tied the bladder tightly round the mouth 
of the vial, which we had inserted in it, and with a piece of 
waxed thread to make it fit better and more tightly, and then 
placed the vial on some hot coals in a brazier. The vapour or 
steam of the spirit, dilated and become aeriform by the heat, 
gradually swelled out the bladder, and stretched it in every 
direction like a sail. As soon as that was accomplished, we 
removed the vial from the fire and placed it on a carpet, that it 
might not be cracked by the cold ; we also pricked the bladder 
immediately, that the steam might not return to a liquid state 
by the cessation of heat, and confound the proportions. We 
then removed the bladder, and again took the weight of the spirit 
which remained ; and so calculated the quantity which had been 
converted into vapour, or an aeriform shape, and then examined 
how much space had been occupied by the body in its form of 
spirits of wine in the vial, and how much, on the other hand, had 
been occupied by it in its aeriform shape in the bladder, and 
subtracted the results ; from which it was clear, that the body, 
thus converted and changed, acquired an expansion of one 
hundred times beyond its former bulk. 

Again, let the required nature be heat or cold, of such a degree 
as not to be sensible from its weakness. Thev are rendered sensible 



BOOK II.] METHOD OF ANALYSIS. 523 

by the thermometer, as we described it above ; z for the cold and 
heat are not actually perceived by the touch, but heat expands 
and cold contracts the air. Nor, again, is that expansion or con- 
traction of the air in itself visible, but the air when expanded 
depresses the water, and when contracted raises it, which is the 
first reduction to sight. 

Again, let the required nature be the mixture of bodies ; 
namely, how much aqueous, oleaginous or spirituous, ashy or 
salt parts they contain ; or, as a particular example, how much 
butter, cheese, and whey there is in milk, and the like ? These 
things are rendered sensible by artificial and skilful separations 
in tangible substances ; and the nature of the spirit in them, 
though not immediately perceptible, is nevertheless discovered 
by the various motions and efforts of bodies. And, indeed, in 
thi3 branch men have laboured hard in distillations and artificial 
separations, but with little more success than in their other ex- 
periments now in use ; their methods being mere guesses and 
blind attempts, and more industrious than intelligent ; and what 
is worst of all, without any imitation or rivalry of nature, but 
rather by violent heats and too energetic agents, to the destruc- 
tion of any delicate conformation, in which principally consist 
the hidden virtues and sympathies. JNor do men in these sepa- 
rations ever attend to or observe what we have before pointed 
out ; namely, that in attacking bodies by fire, or other methods, 
many qualities are superinduced by the fire itself, and the other 
bodies used to effect the separation, which were not originally in 
the compound. Hence arise most extraordinary fallacies ; for 
the mass of vapour which is emitted from water by fire, for 
instance, did not exist as vapour or air in the water, but is chiefly 
created by the expansion of the water by the heat of the fire. 

So, in general, all delicate experiments on natural or artificial 
bodies, by which the genuine are distinguished from the adul- 
terated, and the better from the more common, should be 
referred to this division ; for they bring that which is not the 
object of the senses within their sphere. They are therefore 
to be everywhere diligently sought after. 

With regard to the fifth cause of objects escaping our senses, 
it is clear that the action of the sense takes place by motion, 
and this motion is time. If, therefore, the motion of any body 
be either so slow or so swift as not to be proportioned to the 
necessary momentum which operates on the senses, the object 
is not perceived at all ; as in the motion of the hour hand, and 
that, again, of a musket-ball. The motion which is imperceptible 
by the senses from its slowness, is readily and usually rendered 

■ See Table of Degrees, No. 38. 



524 



NOVUM ORGANUM. 



[BOOK II. 



sensible by the accumulation of motion ; that which is imper- 
ceptible from its velocity, has not as yet been well measured ; it 
is necessary, however, that this should be done in some cases, 
with a view to a proper investigation of nature. 

The sixth case, where the sense is impeded by the power of 
the object, admits of a reduction to the sensible sphere, either 
by removing the object to a greater distance, or by deadening 
its effects by the interposition of a medium, which may weaken 
and not destroy the object ; or by the admission of its reflection 
where the direct impression is too strong, as that of the sun in 
a basin of water. 

The seventh case, where the senses are so overcharged with 
the object as to leave no further room, scarcely occurs except in 
the smell or taste, and is not of much consequence as regards 
our present subject. Let what we have said, therefore, suffice 
with regard to the reduction to the sensible sphere of objects not 
naturally within its compass. 

Sometimes, however, this reduction is not extended to the 
senses of man, but to those of some other animal, whose senses, 
in some points, exceed those of man ; as (with regard to some 
scents) to that of the dog, and with regard to light existing 
imperceptibly in the air, when not illuminated from any ex- 
traneous source, to the sense of the cat, the owl, and other 
animals which see by night. For Telesius has well observed, 
that there appears to be an original portion of light even in the 
air itself, a although but slight and meagre, and of no use for the 
most part to the eyes of men, and those of the generality of 
animals ; because those animals to whose senses this light is 
proportioned can see by night, which does not, in all probability, 
proceed from their seeing either without light or by any internal 
light. 

Here, too, we would observe, that we at present discuss only 
the wants of the senses, and their remedies ; for their deceptions 
must be referred to the inquiries appropriated to the senses, and 
sensible objects ; except that important deception, which makes 
them define objects in their relation to man, and not in their 
relation to the universe, and which is only corrected by universal 
reasoning and philosophy. b 

a Biccati, and all modern physicists, discover some portion of light 
in every body, which seems to confirm the passage in Genesis that 
assigns to this substance priority in creation. Ed. 

b As instances of this kind, which the progress 6f science since the 
time of Bacon afford, we may cite the air-pump and the barometer, for 
manifesting the weight and elasticity of air : the measurement of the 
velocity of light, by means of the occultation of Jupiter's satellites 
and the aberration of the fixed stars : the experiments in electricity 
and galvanism, and in the greater part ot pneumatic chemistry. In 



BOOK II.] INSTANCES OF THE ROAD. 525 

XEI. In the eighteenth rank of prerogative instances we will 
class the instances of the road, which we are also wont to call 
itinerant and jointed instances. They are such as indicate the 
gradually continued motions of nature. This species of in- 
stances escapes rather our observation than our senses ; for men 
are wonderfully indolent upon this subject, consulting nature in 
a desultory manner, and at periodic intervals, when bodies have 
been regularly finished and completed, and not during her work. 
But if any one were desirous of examining and contemplating 
the talents and industry of an artificer, he would not merely 
wish to see the rude materials of his art, and then his work 
when finished, but rather to be present whilst he is at labour, 
and proceeding with his work. Something of the same kind 
should be done with regard to nature. For instance, if any one 
investigate the vegetation of plants, he should observe from the 
first sowing of any seed (which can easily be done, by pulling 
up every day seeds which have been two, three, or four days in 
the ground, and examining them diligently), how and when the 
seed begins to swell and break, and be filled, as it were, with 
spirit ; then how it begins to burst the bark and push out fibres, 
raising itself a little at the same time, unless the ground be very 
stiff'; then how it pushes out these fibres, some downwards for 
roots, others upwards for the stem, sometimes also creeping 
laterally, if it find the earth open and more yielding on one side, 
and the like. The same should be done in observing the hatch- 
ing of eggs, where we may easily see the process of animation 
and organization, and what parts are formed of the yolk, and 
what oi the white of the egg:, and the like. The same may be 
said oi the inquiry into the formation of animals from putrefac- 
tion ; for it would not be so humane to inquire into perfect and 
terrestrial animals, by cutting the foetus from the womb ; but 
opportunities may perhaps be offered of abortions, animals killed 
in hunting, and the like. Nature, therefore, must, as it were, be 
watched, as being more easily observed by night than by day : 
for contemplations of this kind may be considered as carried on 
by night, from the minuteness and perpetual burning of our 
watch-light. 

The same must be attempted with inanimate objects, which 
we have ourselves done by inquiring into the opening of liquids 
by fire. For the mode in which water expands is different from 
that observed in wine, vinegar, or verjuice, and very different, 
again, from that observed in milk and oil, and the like ; and this 
was easily seen by boiling them with slow heat, in a glass vessel, 
through which the whole may be clearly perceived. But we 

all these cases scientific facts are elicited, which sense could never have 
re^ ealed to us. Ed. 



526 NOVUM ORGANUM. [eOOK II. 

merely mention this, intending to treat of it more at large and 
more closely when we come to the discovery of the latent 
process ; for it should always be remembered that we do not 
here treat of things themselves, but merely propose examples. c 

XLII. In the nineteenth rank of prerogative instances we 
will class supplementary or substitutive instances, which we are 
also wont to call instances of refuge. They are such as supply 
information, where the senses are entirely deficient, and we 
therefore have recourse to them when appropriate instances can- 
not be obtained. This substitution is twofold, either by approxi- 
mation or by analogy. For instance, there is no known medium 
which entirely prevents the effect of the magnet in attracting 
iron, — neither gold, nor silver, nor stone, nor glass, wood, water, 
oil, cloth, or fibrous bodies, air, flame, or the like. Yet by 
accurate experiment, a medium may perhaps be found which 
would deaden its effect, more than another comparatively and in 
degree ; as, for instance, the magnet would not perhaps attract 
iron through the same thickness of gold as of air, or the same 
quantity of ignited as of cold silver, and so on ; for we have not 
ourselves made the experiment, but it will suffice as an example. 
Again, there is no known body which is not susceptible of heat, 
when brought near the fire ; yet air becomes warm much sooner 
than stone. These are examples of substitution by approxima- 
tion. 

Substitution by analogy is useful, but less sure, and therefore 
to be adopted with some judgment. It serves to reduce that 
which is not the object of the senses to their sphere, not by the 
perceptible operations of the imperceptible body, bat by the 
consideration of some similar perceptible body. For instance, 
let the subject for inquiry be the mixture of spirits, which are 
invisible bodies. There appears to be some relation between 
bodies and their sources or support. Now, the source of flame 
seems to be oil and fat ; that of air, water, and watery sub- 

c The itinerant instances, as well as frontier instances, are cases in 
which we are enabled to trace the general law ot continuity which 
seems to pervade all nature, and which has been aptly embodied in the 
sentence, "natura non agit per saltum." The pursuit of this law into 
phenomena where its application is not at first sight obvious, has 
opened a mine of physical discovery, and led us to perceive an inti- 
mate connection between facts which at first seemed hostile to each 
other. For example, the transparency of gold-leaf, which permits a 
bluish-green light to pass through it, is a frontier instance between 
transparent and opaque bodies, by exhibiting a body of the glass gene- 
rally regarded the most opaque in nature, as still possessed ot some 
slight degree of transparency. It thus proves that the quality of 
opacity is not a contrary or antagonistic quality to that of transparency, 
but only its extreme lowest degree. 



BOOK II.] LAXCIXG INSTANCES. 527 

stances ; for flame increases over the exhalation of oil. and air 
over that of water. One must therefore consider the mixture of 
oil and water, which is manifest to the senses, since that of air 
and flame in general escapes the senses. But oil and water mix 
very imperfectly by composition or stirring, whilst they are 
exactly and nicely mixed in herbs, blood, and the parts of 
animals. Something similar, therefore, may take place in the 
mixture of flame and air in spirituous substances, not bearing 
mixture very well by simple collision, whilst they appear, how- 
ever, to be well mixed in the spirits of plants and animals. 

Again, if the inquiry do not relate to perfect mixtures of 
spirits, but merely to their composition, as whether they easily 
incorporate with each other, or there be rather (as an example) 
certain winds and exhalations, or other spiritual bodies., which do 
not mix with common air, but only adhere to and float in it in 
globules and drops, and are rather broken and pounded by the 
air, than received into, and incorporated with it : this cannot be 
perceived in common air, and other aeriform substances, on 
account of the rarity of the bodies, but an image, as it were, of 
this process may be conceived in such liquids as quicksilver, 
oil, water, and even air, when broken and dissipated it ascends 
in small portions through water, and also in the thicker kinds of 
smoke ; lastly, in dust, raised and remaining in the air, in all of 
which there is no incorporation : and the above representation 
in this respect is not a bad one, if it be first diligently investi- 
gated, whether there can be such a difference of nature between 
spirituous substances, as between liquids, for then these images 
might conveniently be substituted by analogy. 

And although we have observed of these supplementary in- 
stances, that information is to be derived from them, when appro- 
priate instances are wanting, by way of refuge, yet we would 
have it understood, that they are also of great use, when the 
appropriate instances are at hand, in order to confirm the in- 
formation afforded by them ; of which we will speak more at 
length, when our subject leads us, in due course, to the support 
of induction. 

XLIII. In the twentieth rank of prerogative instances we will 
place lancing instances, which we are also wont (bnt for a different 
reason) to call twitching instances. We adopt the latter name, 
because they twitch the understanding, and the former because 
they pierce nature, whence we style them occasionally the in- 
stances of Democritus. 1 They are such as warn the understand- 
ing of the admirable and exquisite subtilty of nature, so that it 
becomes roused and awakened to attention, observation, and 
proper inquiry ; as, for instance, that a little drop of ink should 

d Alluding to his theory of atoms. 



528 NOVUM ORGANUM [BOOK II. 

be drawn out into so many letters ; that silver merely gilt on its 
surface should be stretched to such a length of gilt wire ; that a 
little worm, such as you may find on the skin, should possess 
both a spirit and a varied conformation of its parts ; that a little 
saffron should imbue a whole tub oi water with its colour ; that 
a little musk or aroma should imbue a much greater extent of 
air with its perfume ; that a cloud of smoke should be raised by 
a little incense ; that such accurate differences of sounds as 
articulate words should be conveyed in all directions through the 
air, and even penetrate the pores of wood and water (though 
they become much weakened), that they should be, moreover, 
reflected, and that with such distinctness and velocity ; that 
light and colour should for such an extent and so rapidly pass 
through solid bodies, such as glass and water, with so great and 
so exquisite a variety of images, and should be refracted and 
reflected ; that the magnet should attract through every descrip- 
tion of body, even the most compact ; but (what is still more 
wonderful) that in all these cases the action of one should not 
impede that of another in a common medium, such as air ; and 
that there should be borne through the air, at the same time, so 
many images of visible objects, so many impulses of articulation, 
so many different perfumes, as of the violet, rose, &c, besides 
cold and heat, and magnetic attractions ; all of them, I say, at 
once, without any impediment from each other, as if each had 
its paths and peculiar passage set apart for it, without infringing 
against or meeting each other. 

To these lancing instances, however, we are wont, not without 
some advantage, to add those which we call the limits of such 
instances. Thus, in the cases we have pointed out, one action 
does not disturb or impede another of a different nature, yet 
those of a similar nature subdue and extinguish each other ; as 
the light of the sun does that of the candle, the sound ot a 
cannon that of the voice, a strong perfume a more delicate one, 
a powerful heat a more gentle one, a plate of iron between the 
magnet and other iron the effect of the magnet. But the proper 
place for mentioning these will be also amongst the supports of 
induction. 

XLIV. We have now spoken of the instances which assist the 
senses, and which are principally of service as regards informa- 
tion; for information begins from the senses. But our whole 
labour terminates in practice, and as the former is the beginning, 
so is the latter the end of our subject. The following instances, 
therefore, will be those which are chiefly useful in practice. 
They are comprehended in two classes, and are seven in number. 
We call them all by the general name of practical instances. 
JSow there are two defects in practice, and as many divisions of 



BOOK II. INSTANCES OF THE ROD 529 

important instances. Practice is either deceptive or too laborious. 
It is generally deceptive (especially after a diligent examination 
of natures), on account of the power and actions of bodies beiug 
ill defined and determined. Now the powers and actions of 
bodies are defined and determined either by space or by time, or 
by the quantity at a given period, or by the predominance of 
energy ; and if these four circumstances be not well and dili- 
gently considered, the sciences may indeed be beautiful in theory, 
but are of no effect in practice. We call the four instances 
referred to this class, mathematical instances and instances of 
measure. 

Practice is laborious either from the multitude of instruments, 
or the bulk of matter and substances requisite for any given 
work. Those instances, therefore, are valuable, which either 
direct practice to that which is of most consequence to mankind, 
or lessen the number of instruments or of matter to be worked 
upon. We assign to the three instances relating to this class, the 
common name of propitious or benevolent instances. We will 
now separately discuss these seven instances, and conclude with 
them that part of our work which relates to the prerogative or 
illustrious instances. 

XLV. In the twenty-first rank of prerogative instances we 
will place the instances of the rod or rule, which we are also 
wont to call the instances of completion or non ultra. For the 
powers and motions of bodies do not act and take effect through 
indefinite and accidental, but through limited and certain spaces ; 
and it is of great importance to practice that these should be 
understood and noted in every nature which is investigated, not 
only to prevent deception, but to render practice more extensive 
and efficient. For it is sometimes possible to extend these 
powers, and bring the distance, as it were, nearer, as in the 
example of telescopes. 

Many powers act and take effect only by actual touch, as m 
the percussion of bodies, where the one does not remove the 
other, unless the impelling touch the impelled body. External 
applications in medicine, as ointment and plasters, do not exer- 
cise their efficacy except when in contact with the body. Lastly, 
the objects of touch and taste only strike those senses when in 
contact with their organs. 

Other powers act at a distance, though it be very small, of which 
but few have as yet been noted, although there be more than 
men suspect; this happens (to take everyday instances) when 
amber or jet attracts straws, bubbles dissolve bubbles, some 
purgative medicines draw humours from above, and the like. 
The magnetic power by which iron and the magnet, or two 
magnets, are attracted together, acts within a definite and nar- 
2 2m 



530 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK II. 

row sphere, but if there be any magnetic power emanating from 
the earth a little below its surface, and affecting the needle in 
its polarity, it must act at a great distance. 

Again, if there be any magnetic force which acts by sympathy 
between the globe of the earth and heavy bodies, or between 
that of the moon and the waters of the sea (as seems most pro- 
bable from the particular floods and ebbs which occur twice in 
the month), or between the starry sphere and the planets, by 
which they are summoned and raised to their apogees, these 
must all operate at very great distances. 6 Again, some con- 
flagrations and the kindling of flames take place at very con- 
siderable distances with particular substances, as they report of 
the naphtha of Babylon. Heat, too, insinuates itself at wide 
distances, as does also cold, so that the masses of ice which are 
broken off and float upon the Northern Ocean, and are borne 
through the Atlantic to the coast of Canada, become perceptible 
by the inhabitants, and strike them with cold from a distance. 
Perfumes also (though here there appears to be always some 
corporeal emission) act at remarkable distances, as is experienced 
by persons sailing by the coast of Florida, or parts of Spain, 
where there are whole woods of lemons, oranges, and other 
odoriferous plants, or rosemary and marjoram bushes, and the 
like. Lastly, the rays of light and the impressions of sound act 
at extensive distances. 

e Observe the approximation to Newton's theory. The same notion 
repeated still more clearly in the ninth motion. Newton believed 
that the planets might so conspire as to derange the earth's annual 
revolution, and to elongate the line of the apsides and ellipsis that 
the earth describes in its annual revolution round the sun. In 
the supposition that all the planets meet on the same straight line, 
Venus and Mercury on one side of the sun, and the earth, moon, 
Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn on the side diametrically opposite ; then 
Saturn would attract Jupiter, Jupiter Mars, Mars the moon, which 
must in its turn attract the earth in proportion to the force with 
which it was drawn out of its orbit. The result of this combined 
action on our planet would elongate its ecliptic orbit, and so far draw it 
from the source of heat, as to produce an intensity of cold destructive 
to animal life. But this movement would immediately cease with the 
planetary concurrence which produced it, and the earth, like a com- 
pressed spring, bound almost as near to the sun as she had been drawn 
from it, the reaction of the heat on its surface being about as intense 
as the cold caused by the first removal was severe. The earth, until 
it gained its regular track, would thus alternately vibrate between each 
side of its orbit, with successive changes in its atmosphere, proportional 
to the square of the variation of its distance from the sun. In no place 
is Bacon's genius more conspicuous than in these repeated guesses at 
truth. He would have been a strong Copernican, had not Gilbert 
defended the system. Ed. 



BOOK II.] MEASURES OF MOTION. 531 

Yet all these powers, whether acting at a small or great dis- 
tance, certainly act within definite distances, which are well 
ascertained by nature ; so that there is a limit depending either 
on the mass or quantity of the bodies, the vigour or faintness of 
the powers, or the favourable or impeding nature of the medium, 
all of which should be taken into account and observed. We 
must also note the boundaries of violent motions, such as mis- 
siles, projectiles, wheels, and the like, since they are also mani- 
festly confined to certain limits. 

Some motions and virtues are to be found of a directly con- 
trary nature to these, which act in contact but not at a distance ; 
namely, such as operate at a distance and not in contact, and 
again act with less force at a less distance, and the reverse. 
Sight, for instance, is not easily effective in contact, but requires 
a medium and distance; although I remember having heard 
from a person deserving of credit, that in being cured of a cata- 
ract (which was done by putting a small silver needle within the 
first coat of the eye, to remove the thin pellicle of the cataract, 
and force it into a corner of the eye), he had distinctly seen the 
needle moving across the pupil. Still, though this may be true, 
it is clear that large bodies cannot be seen well or distinctly, 
unless at the vertex of a cone, where the rays from the object 
meet at some distance from the eye. In old persons the eye sees 
better if the object be moved a little farther, and not nearer. 
Again, it is certain that in projectiles the impact is not so violent 
at too short a distance as a little afterwards/ Such are the 
observations to be made on the measure of motions as regards 
distance. 

There is another measure of motion in space which must not 
be passed over, not relating to progressive but spherical motion, 
— that is, the expansion of bodies into a greater, or their contrac- 
tion into a lesser sphere. For in our measure of this motion we 
must inquire what degree of compression or extension bodies 
easily and readily admit of, according to their nature, and at 
what point they begin to resist it, so as at last to bear it no fur- 
ther, — as when an inflated bladder is compressed, it allows a 
certain compression of the air, but if this be increased, the air 
does not suffer it, and the bladder is burst. 

f This is not true except when the projectile acquires greater velocity 
at every successive instant of its course, which is never the case except 
with falling bodies. Bacon appears to have been led into the opinion 
from observing that gun-shots pierce many objects at a distance from 
which they rebound when brought within a certain proximity of con- 
tact. This apparent inconsistency, however, arises from the resistance 
of the parts of the object, which velocity combined with force is neces- 
sary to overcome. Ed, 

2 M2 



532 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK II. 

We have proved this by a more delicate experiment. We took 
a metal bell, of a light and thin sort, such as is used for salt- 
cellars, and immerged it in a basm of water, so as to carry the 
air contained in its interior down with it to the bottom of the 
basin. We had first, however, placed a small globe at the 
bottom of the basin, over which we placed the bell. The result 
w r as, that if the globe were small compared with the interior of the 
bell, the air would contract itself, and be compressed without 
being forced out, but if it were too large for the air readily to 
yield to it, the latter became impatient of the pressure, raised 
the bell partly up, and ascended in bubbles. 

To prove, also, the extension (as well as the compression) which 
air admits of, we adopted the following method : — We took a 
glass egg, with a small hole at one end ; we drew out the air by 
violent suction at this hole, and then closed the hole with the 
finger, immersed the egg in water, and then removed the finger. 
The air being constrained by the effort made in suction, and 
dilated beyond its natural state, and therefore striving to recover 
and contract itself (so that if the egg had not been immersed in 
water, it would have drawn in the air with a hissing sound), now 
drew in a sufficient quantity of water to allow the air to recover 
its former dimensions. s 

It is well ascertained that rare bodies (such as air) admit of 
considerable contraction, as has been before observed ; but 
tangible bodies (such as water) admit of it much less readily, 
and to a less extent. We investigated the latter point by the 
following experiment : — 

We had a leaden globe made, capable of containing about two 
pints, wine measure, and of tolerable thickness, so as to support 
considerable pressure. We poured water into it through an 
aperture, which we afterwards closed with melted lead, as soon 
as the globe was filled with water, so that the whole became 
perfectly solid. We next flattened the two opposite sides with a 
heavy hammer, which necessarily caused the water to occupy a 
less space, since the sphere is the solid of greatest content; and 
when hammering failed from the resistance of the water, we 
made use of a mill or press, till at last the water, refusing to 
submit to a greater pressure, exuded like a fine dew through the 
solid lead. We then computed the extent to which the original 
space had been reduced, and concluded that water admitted such 
a degree of compression when constrained by great violence. 

The more solid, dry, or compact bodies, such as stones, wood, 
and metals, admit of much less, and indeed scarcely any percep- 
tible compression or expansion, but escape by breaking, slipping 

% This passage shows that the pressure of the external atmosphere, 
which forces the water into the egg, was not in Bacon's time understood. 



BOOK II.] INSTANCES OF THE COURSE. 533 

forward, or other efforts ; as appears in bending wood, or steel 
for watch-springs, in projectiles, hammering, and many other 
motions, all of which, together with their degrees, are to be 
observed and examined in the investigation of nature, either to 
a certainty, or by estimation, or comparison, as opportunity 
permits. 

XL VI. In the twenty-second rank of prerogative instances 
we will place the instances of the course, which we are also 
wont to call water instances, borrowing our expression from the 
water hour-glasses employed by the ancients instead of those 
with sand. They are such as measure nature by the moments 
ot time, as the last instances do by the degrees of space. For 
all motion or natural action takes place in time, more or less 
rapidly, but still in determined moments well ascertained by 
nature. Even those actions which appear to take effect sud- 
denly, and in the twinkling of an eye (as we express it), are 
found to admit of greater or less rapidity. 

In the first place, then, we see that the return of the heavenly 
bodies to the same place takes place in regular times, as does 
the flood and ebb of the sea. The descent of heavy bodies 
towards the earth, and the ascent of light bodies towards the 
heavenly sphere, take place in definite times, h according to the 
nature of the body, and of the medium through which it moves. 
The sailing of ships, the motions of animals, the transmission of 
projectiles, all take place in times the sums of which can be 
computed. With regard to heat, we see that boys in winter 
bathe their hands in the flame without being burnt ; and con- 
jurers, by quick and regular movements, overturn vessels filled 
with wine or water, and replace them without spilling the liquid, 
with several similar instances. The compression, expansion, and 
eruption of several bodies, take place more or less rapidly, 
according to the nature of the body and its motion, but still in 
definite moments. 

In the explosion of several cannon at once (which are some- 

h We have already alluded, in a note prefixed to the same aphorism 
of the first book, to Newton's error of the absolute lightness of bodies. 
In speaking again ot the volatile or spiritual substances (Aph. xl. b. ii.), 
which he supposed with the Platonists and some of the schoolmen to 
enter into the composition of every body, he ascribes to them a power 
of lessening the weight of the material coating in which he supposes 
them inclosed. It would appear from these passages and the text that 
Bacon had no idea of the relative density of bodies, and the capability 
which some have to diminish the specific gravity of the heavier sub- 
stances by the dilation of their parts ; or if he had, the reveries in 
which Aristotle indulged in treating of the soul, about the appetency of 
bodies to fly to kindred substances, — flame and spirit to the sky, and solid 
opaque substances to the earth, must have vitiated his mind. Ed. 



534 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK II. 

times heard at the distance of thirty miles), the sound of those 
nearest to the spot is heard before that of the most distant. 
Even in sight (whose action is most rapid), it is clear that a 
definite time is necessary for its exertion, which is proved by 
certain objects being invisible from the velocity of their motion, 
such as a musket-ball ; for the flight of the ball is too swift to 
allow an impression of its figure to be conveyed to the sight. 

This last instance, and others of a like nature, have sometimes 
excited in us a most marvellous doubt, no less than whether the 
image of the sky and stars is perceived as at the actual moment 
of its existence, or rather a little after, and whether there is not 
(with regard to the visible appearance of the heavenly bodies) a 
true and apparent time, as well as a true and apparent place, 
which is observed by astronomers in parallaxes. It appeared so 
incredible to us, that the images or radiations of heavenly bodies 
could suddenly be conveyed through such immense spaces to the 
sight, and it seemed that they ought rather to be transmitted in 
a definite time. 1 That doubt, however (as far as regards any 
great difference between the true and apparent time), was sub- 
sequently completely set at rest, when we considered the infinite 
loss and diminution of size as regards the real and apparent 
magnitude of a star, occasioned by its distance, and at the same 
time observed at how great a distance (at least sixty miles) bodies 
which are merely white can be suddenly seen by us. For there 
is no doubt, that the light of the heavenly bodies not only far 
surpasses the vivid appearance of white, but even the light of 
any flame (with which we are acquainted) in the vigour of its 
radiation. The immense velocity of the bodies themselves, which 
is perceived in their diurnal motion, and has so astonished 
thinking men, that they have been more ready to believe in the 
motion of the earth, renders the motion of radiation from them 
(marvellous as it is in its rapidity) more worthy of belief. That 
which has weighed most with us, however, is, that if there were 
any considerable interval of time between the reality and the 
appearance, the images would often be interrupted and confused 
by clouds formed in the mean time, and similar disturbances of 
the medium. Let this suffice with regard to the simple measures 
of time. 

It is not merely the absolute, but si ill more the relative 
measure of motions and actions which must be inquired into, 
for this latter is of great use and application. We perceive that 

Romer, a Danish astronomer, was the first to demonstrate, by con- 
necting the irregularities of the eclipses of Jupiter's satellites with their 
distances from the earth, the necessity of time for the propagation of 
light. The idea occurred to Dominic Cassini as well as Bacon, but both 
allowed the discovery to slip out of their hands. Ed, 



BOOK II. 1 RELATIVE INCKEASE OF MOTION. 535 

the flame of fire-arms is seen sooner than the sound is heard, 
although the ball must have struck the air before the flame, 
which was behind it, could escape : the reason of which is, that 
light moves with greater velocity than sound. We perceive, 
also, that visible images are received by the sight with greater 
rapidity than they are dismissed, and for this reason, a violin 
string touched with the finger appears double or triple, because 
the new image is received before the former one is dismissed. 
Hence, also, rings when spinning appear globular, and a lighted 
torch, borne rapidly along at night, appears to have a tail. Upon 
the principle of the inequality of motion, also, Galileo attempted 
an explanation of the flood and ebb of the sea, supposing the 
earth to move rapidly, and the water slowly, by which means the 
water, after accumulating, would at intervals fall back, as is 
shown in a vessel of water made to move rapidly. He has, how- 
ever, imagined this on data which cannot be granted (namely, 
the earth's motion), and besides, does not satisfactorily account 
for the tide taking place every six hours. 

An example of our present point (the relative measure of 
motion), and, at the same time, of its remarkable use of which 
we have spoken, is conspicuous in mines filled with gunpowder, 
where immense weights of earth, buildings, and the like, are 
overthrown and prostrated by a small quantity of powder ; the 
reason of which is decidedly this, that the motion of the expan- 
sion of the gunpowder is much more rapid than that of gravity, k 
which would resist it, so that the former has terminated before 
the latter has commenced. Hence, also, in missiles, a strong blow 
will not carry them so far as a sharp and rapid one. Nor could 
a small portion of animal spirit in animals, especially in such 
vast bodies as those of the whale and elephant, have ever bent or 
directed such a mass of body, were it not owing to the velocity of 
the former, and the slowness of the latter in resisting its motion. 

In short, this point is one of the principal foundations of the 
magic experiments (of which we shall presently speak), where a 
small mass of matter overcomes and regulates a much larger, if 
there but be an anticipation of motion, by the velocity of one 
before the other is prepared to act. 

Finally, the point of the first and last should be observed 
in all natural actions. Thus, in an infusion of rhubarb the pur- 
gative property is first extracted, and then the astringent ; we 
have experienced something of the same kind in steeping violets 
in vinegar, which first extracts the sweet and delicate odour of 

k The author in the text confounds inertness, which is a simple 
indifference of bodies to action, with gravity, which is a force acting 
always in proportion to their density. He falls into the same error 
further on. Ed. 



536 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK II. 

the flower, and then the more earthy part, which disturbs the 
perfume ; so that if the violets be steeped a whole day, a much 
fainter perfume is extracted than if they were steeped for a 
quarter of an hour only, and then taken out; and since the 
odoriferous spirit in the violet is not abundant, let other and 
fresh violets be steeped in the vinegar every quarter of an hour, 
as many as six times, when the infusion becomes so strengthened, 
that although the violets have not altogether remained there for 
more than one hour and a half, there remains a most pleasing per- 
fume, not inferior to the flower itself, for a whole year. It must 
be observed, however, that the perfume does not acquire its full 
strength, till about a month after the infusion. In the distil- 
lation of aromatic plants macerated in spirits of wine, it is well 
known that an aqueous and useless phlegm rises first, then water 
containing more of the spirit, and lastly, water containing more 
ot the aroma; and many observations of the like kind, well 
worthy of notice, are to be made in distillations. But let these 
suffice as examples. 1 

1 The experiments of the two last classes of instances are considered 
only in relation to practice, and Bacon does not so much as mention 
their infinitely greater importance in the theoretical part of induction. 
The important law of gravitation in physical astronomy could never 
have been demonstrated but by such observations and experiments as 
assigned accurate geometrical measures to the quantities compared. 
It was necessary to determine with precision the demi-diameter ol the 
earth, the velocity of falling bodies at its surface, the distance of the 
moon, and the speed with which she describes her orbit, before the rela- 
tion could be discovered between the force which draws a stone to the 
ground and that which retains the moon in her sphere. 

In many cases the result of a number of particular facts, or the collec- 
tive instances rising out of them, can only be discovered by geometry, 
which so far becomes necessary to complete the work of induction. For 
instance, in the case of optics, when light passes from one transparent 
medium to another, it is refracted, and the angle which the ray of inci- 
dence makes with the superficies which bounds the two media deter- 
mines that which the refracted ray makes with the same superficies. 
Now, all experiment can do for us in this case is, to determine for any 
particular angle of incidence the corresponding angle of refraction. But 
with respect to the general rule which in every possible case deduces 
one of these angles from the other, or expresses the constant and 
invariable relation which subsists between them, experiment gives no 
direct information. Geometry must, consequently, be called in, which, 
when a constant though unknown relation subsists between two angles, 
or two variable qualities of any kind, and when an indefinite number of 
values of those quantities are assigned, furnishes infallible means of dis- 
covering that unknown relation either accurately or by approximation. 
In this way it has been found, when the two media remain the same, 
the cosines of the above-mentioned angles have a constant ratio to each 
other. Hence, when the relations of the simple elements ot pheno- 



BOOK II. J INST4NCES OF QUANTITY. 537 

XL VII. In the twenty -third rank of prerogative instances we 
will place instances of quantity, which we are also wont to call 
the doses of nature (borrowing a word from medicine). They 
are such as measure the powers by the quantity of bodies, and 
point out the effect of the quantity in the degree of power. And 
in the first place, some powers only subsist in the universal 
quantity, or such as bears a relation to the confirmation and 
fabric of the universe. Thus the earth is fixed, its parts fall. 
The waters in the sea flow and ebb, but not in the rivers, except 
by the admission of the sea. Then, again, almost all particular 
powers act according to the greater or less quantity of the body. 
Large masses of water are not easily rendered foul, small are. 
New wine and beer become ripe and drinkable in small skins 
much more readily than in large casks. If an herb be placed in 
a considerable quantity of liquid, infusion takes place rather than 
impregnation ; if in less, the reverse. A bath, therefore, and a 
light sprinkling, produce different effects on the human body. 
Light dew, again, never falls, but is dissipated and incorporated 
with the air ; thus we see that in breathing on gems, the slight 
quantity of moisture, like a small cloud in the air, is immediately 
dissolved. Again, a piece of the same magnet does not attract 
so much iron as the whole magnet did. There are some powers 
where the smallness of the quantity is of more avail; as in 
boring, a sharp point pierces more readily than a blunt one ; the 
diamond, when pointed, makes an impression on glass, and the 
like. 

Here, too, we must not rest contented with a vague result, but 
inquire into the exact proportion of quantity requisite for a par- 
ticular exertion of power ; for one would be apt to suppose that 
the power bears an exact proportion to the quantity ; that if a 
leaden bullet of one ounce, for instance, would fall in a given 
time, one of two ounces ought to fall twice as rapidly, which is 
most erroneous. Nor does the same ratio prevail in every kind 
of power, their difference being considerable. The measure, 

mena are discovered to afford a general rule which will apply to any 
concrete case, the deductive method must be applied, and the elemen- 
tary principles made through its agency to account for the laws oi their 
more complex combinations. The reflection and refraction ot light by 
the rain falling from a cloud opposite to the sun was thought, even 
before Newton's day, to contain the form ot the rainbow. This philo- 
sopher transformed a probable conjecture into a certain fact when he 
deduced from the known laws of reflection and retraction the breadth 
of the coloured arch, the diameter of the circle of which it is a part, 
and the relation of the latter to the place oi the spectator and the sun. 
Doubt was at once silenced when there came out oi his calculus a com- 
bination of the same laws oi the simple elements of optics answering to 
the phenomena in nature. Ed. 



538 NOVUM OKGANUM. [BOOK II. 

therefore, must be determined by experiment, and not by pro- 
bability or conjecture. 

Lastly, we must in all our investigations of nature observe 
what quantity, or dose, of the body is requisite for a given effect, 
and must at the same time be guarded against estimating it at 
too much or too little. 

XLVIXI. In the twenty-fourth rank of prerogative instances 
we will place wrestling instances, which we are also wont to call 
instances of predominance. They are such as point out the 
predominance and submission of powers compared with each 
other, and which of them is the more energetic and superior, or 
more weak and inferior. For the motions and effects of bodies 
are compounded, decomposed, and combined, no less than the 
bodies themselves. We will exhibit, therefore, the principal 
kinds of motions or active powers, in order that their comparative 
strength, and thence a demonstration and definition of the 
instances in question, may be rendered more clear. 

Let the first motion be that of the resistance of matter, which 
exists in every particle, and completely prevents its annihilation ; 
so that no conflagration, weight, pressure, violence, or length of 
time can reduce even the smallest portion of matter to nothing, 
or prevent it from being something, and occupying some space, 
and delivering itself (whatever straits it be put to), by changing 
its form or place, or, if that be impossible, remaining as it is; nor 
can it ever happen that it should either be nothing or nowhere. 
This motion is designated by the schools (which generally name 
and define everything by its effects and inconveniences rather 
than by its inherent cause) by the axiom, that two bodies can- 
not exist in the same place, or they call it a motion to prevent 
the penetration of dimensions. It is useless to give examples of 
this motion, since it exists in every body. 

Let the second motion be that which we term the motion of 
connection, by which bodies do not allow themselves to be sepa- 
rated at any point from the contact of another body, delighting, 
as it were, in the mutual connection and contact. This is called 
by the schools a motion to prevent a vacuum. It takes place 
when water is drawn up by suction or a syringe, the flesh by 
cupping, or when the water remains without escaping from per- 
forated jars, unless the mouth be opened to admit the air, and 
innumerable instances of a like nature. 

Let the third be that which we term the motion of liberty, by 
which bodies strive to deliver themselves from any unnatural 
pressure or tension, and to restore themselves to the dimensions 
suited to their mass ; and of which, also, there are innumerable 
examples. Thus, we have examples of their escaping from pres- 
sure, in the water in swimming, in the air in flying, in the water 
again in rowing, and in the air in the undulation of the winds, 



BOOK II.] MOTION OF LIBERTY. 539 

and in springs of watches. An exact instance of the motion of 
compressed air is seen in children's popguns, which they make 
by scooping out elder-branches or some such matter, and forcing 
in a piece of some pulpy root or the like, at each end ; then they 
force the root or other pellet with a ramrod to the opposite end, 
from which the lower pellet is emitted and projected with a 
report, and that before it is touched by the other piece of root or 
pellet, or by the ramrod. We have examples of their escape 
from tension, in the motion of the air that remains in glass eggs 
after suction, in strings, leather, and cloth, which recoil after 
tension, unless it be long continued. The schools define this by 
the term of motion from the form of the element: injudiciously 
enough, since this motion is to be found not only in air, water, 
or fire, but in every species of solid, as wood, iron, lead, cloth, 
parchment, &c, each of which has its own proper size, and is 
with difficulty stretched to any other. Since, however, this 
motion of liberty is the most obvious of all, and to be seen in an 
infinite number of cases, it will be as well to distinguish it cor- 
rectly and clearly ; for some most carelessly confound this with 
the two others of resistance and connection ; namely, the freedom 
from pressure with the former, and that from tension with the 
latter, as if bodies when compressed yielded or expanded to pre- 
vent a penetration of dimensions, and when stretched rebounded 
and contracted themselves to prevent a vacuum. But if the air, 
when compressed, could be brought to the density of water, or 
wood to that of stone, there would be no need of any penetration 
of dimensions, and yet the compression would be much greater 
than they actually admit of. So if water could be expanded till 
it became as rare as air, or stone as rare as wood, there would 
be no need of a vacuum, and yet the expansion would be much 
greater than they actually admit of. We do not, therefore, 
arrive at a penetration of dimensions or a vacuum before the 
extremes of condensation and rarefaction, whilst the motion we 
speak of stops and exerts itself much within them, and is 
nothing more than a desire of bodies to preserve their specific 
density (or, if it be preferred, their form), and not to desert them 
suddenly, but only to change by degrees, and of their own 
accord. It is, however, much more necessary to intimate to 
mankind (because many other points depend upon this), that the 
violent motion which we call mechanical, and Democritus (who, 
in explaining his primary motions, is to be ranked even below 
the middling class of philosophers) termed the motion of a blow, 
is nothing else than this motion of liberty, namely, a tendency 
to relaxation from compression. For in all simple impulsion or 
flight through the air, the body is not displaced or moved in 
space, until its parts are placed in an unnatural state, and com- 
pressed by the impelling force. When that takes place, the 



54:0 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK II. 

different parts urging the other in succession, the whole is moved, 
and that with a rotatory as well as progressive motion, in order 
that the parts may, by this means also, set themselves at liberty, 
or more readily submit. Let this suffice for the motion in 
question. 

Let the fourth be that which we term the motion of matter, 
and which is opposed to the last ; for in the motion of liberty, 
bodies abhor, reject, and avoid a new size or volume, or any new 
expansion or contraction (for these different terms have the same 
meaning), and strive, with all their power, to rebound and 
resume their former density ; on the contrary, in the motion of 
matter, they are anxious to acquire a new volume or dimension, 
and attempt it willingly and rapidly, and occasionally by a most 
vigorous effort, as in the example of gunpowder. The most 
powerful, or at least most frequent, though not the only in- 
struments of this motion, are heat and cold. For instance, the 
air, if expanded by tension (as by suction in the glass egg) f 
struggles anxiously to restore itself; but if heat be applied, it 
strives, on the contrary, to dilate itself, and longs for a larger 
volume, regularly passing and migrating into it, as into a new 
form (as it is termed) ; nor after a certain degree of expansion 
is it anxious to return, unless it be invited to do so by the 
application of cold, which is not indeed a return, but a fresh 
change. So also water, when confined by compression, resists, 
and wishes to become as it was before, namely, more expanded; but 
if there happen an intense and continued cold, it changes itself 
readily, and of its own accord, into the condensed state of ice ; 
and if the cold be long-continued, without any intervening 
warmth (as in grottos and deep caves), it is changed into crystal 
or similar matter, and never resumes its form. 

Let the fifth be that which we term the motion of continuity 
We do not understand by this simple and primary continuity 
with any other body (for that is the motion of connection), but 
the continuity of a particular body in itself ; for it is most 
certain that all bodies abhor a solution of continuity, some more 
and some less, but all partially. In hard bodies (such as steel 
and glass) the resistance to an interruption of continuity is 
most powerful and efficacious, whilst although in liquids it 
appears to be faint and languid, yet it is not altogether null, but 
exists in the lowest degree, and shows itself in many experiments, 
such as bubbles, the round form of drops, the thin threads which 
drip from roofs, the cohesion of glutinous substances, and the 
like. It is most conspicuous, however, if an attempt be made 
to push this separation to still smaller particles. Thus, in 
mortars, the pestle produces no effect after a certain degree of 
contusion, water does not penetrate small fissures, and the air 



BOOK II.] MOTION OF ACQUISITION. 541 

itself, notwithstanding its subtilty, does not penetrate the pores 
of solid vessels at once, but only by long-continued insinuation. 

Let the sixth be that which we term the motion of acquisition, 
or the motion of need. m It is that by which bodies placed 
amongst others of a heterogeneous and, as it were, hostile 
nature, if they meet with the means or opportunity of avoiding 
them, and uniting themselves with others of a more analogous 
nature, even when these latter are not closely allied to them, 
immediately seize and, as it were, select them, and appear to 
consider it as something acquired (whence we derive the name), 
and to have need of these latter bodies. For instance, gold, or 
any other metal in leaf, does not like the neighbourhood of air ; 
if, therefore, they meet with any tangible and thick substance 
(such as the finger, paper, or the like), they immediately adhere 
to it, and are not easily torn from it. Paper, too, and cloth, and 
the like, do not agree with the air, which is inherent and mixed 
in their pores. They readily, therefore, imbibe water or other 
liquids, and get rid of the air. Sugar, or a sponge, dipped in 
water or wine, and though part of it be out of the water or 
wine, and at some height above it, will yet gradually absorb 
them." 

Hence an excellent rule is derived for the opening and dissolu- 
tion of bodies ; for (not to mention corrosive and strong waters, 
which force their way) if a body can be found which is more 
adapted, suited, and friendly to a given solid, than that with 
which it is by some necessity united, the given solid immediately 
opens and dissolves itself to receive the former, and excludes or 
removes the latter. Nor is the effect or power of this motion 
confined to contact, for the electric energy (of which Gilbert 
and others after him have told so many fables) is only the 
energy excited in a body by gentle friction, and which does not 
endure the air, but prefers some tangible substance if there be 
any at hand. 

Let the seventh be that which we term the motion of greater 
congregation, by which bodies are borne towards masses of a 
similar nature, for instance, heavy bodies towards the earth, 
light to the sphere of heaven. The schools termed this natural 
motion, by a superficial consideration of it, because produced by 
no external visible agent, which made them consider it innate in 
the substances ; or perhaps because it does not cease, which is 

m As far as this motion results from attraction and repulsion, it is 
only a simple consequence of the two last. Ed. 

n These two cases are now resolved into the property of the capillary 
tubes, and present only another feature of the law oi attraction. Ed. 

° This is one of the most useful practical methods in chemistry at the 
present day. 



542 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK II 

little to be wondered at, since heaven and earth are always 
present, whilst the causes and sources of many other motions 
are sometimes absent and sometimes present. They therefore 
called this perpetual and proper, because it is never interrupted, 
but instantly takes place when the others are interrupted, and 
they called the others adscititious. The former, however, is in 
reality weak and slow, since it yields, and is inferior to the 
others as long as they act, unless the mass of the body be great ; 
and although this motion have so filled men's minds, as almost 
to have obscured all others, yet they know but little about it, 
and commit many errors in its estimate. 

Let the eighth be that which we term the motion of lesser 
congregation, by which the homogeneous parts in any body 
separate themselves from the heterogeneous and unite together, 
and whole bodies of a similar substance coalesce and tend 
towards each other, and are sometimes congregated, attracted, 
and meet, from some distance ; thus in milk the cream rises after 
a certain time, and in wine the dregs and tartar sink ; which 
effects are not to be attributed to gravity and levity only, so as 
to account for the rising of some parts and the sinking of others, 
but much more to the desire of the homogeneous bodies to meet 
and unite. This motion differs from that of need in two points : 
1st, because the latter is the stimulus of a malignant and con- 
trary nature, whilst in this of which we treat (if there be no 
impediment or restraint), the parts are united by their affinity, 
although there be no foreign nature to create a struggle ; 2ndly, 
because the union is closer and more select. For in the other 
motion, bodies which have no great affinity unite, if they can 
but avoid the hostile body, whilst in this, substances which are 
connected by a decided kindred resemblance come together and 
are moulded into one. It is a motion existing in all compound 
bodies, and would be readily seen in each, if it were not confined 
and checked by the other affections and necessities of bodies 
which disturb the union. 

This motion is usually confined in the three following manners : 
by the torpor of the bodies ; by the power of the predominating 
body ; by external motion. With regard to the first, it is 
certain that there is more or less sluggishness in tangible bodies, 
and an abhorrence of locomotion ; so that unless excited they 
prefer remaining contented with their actual state, to placing 
themselves in a better position. There are three means of 
breaking through this sluggishness,— heat ; the active power of a 
similar body ; vivid and powerful motion. With regard to the 
first, heat is, on this account, defined as that which separates 
heterogeneous, and draws together homogeneous substances ; a 
definition of the Peripatetics which is justly ridiculed by Gilbert, 
who says it is as if one were to define man to be that which 



BOOK II.] MOTION OF CONGREGATION. 5i3 

sows wheat and plants vineyards ; being only a definition 
deduced from effects, and those but partial. But it is still more 
to be blamed, because those effects, such as they are, are not a 
peculiar property of heat, but a mere accident (for cold, as we 
shall afterwards show, does the same), arising from the desire of 
the homogeneous parts to unite ; the heat then assists them in 
breaking through that sluggishness which before restrained their 
desire. With regard to the assistance derived from the power 
of a similar body, it is most conspicuous in the magnet when 
armed with steel, for it excites in the steel a power of adhering 
to steel, as a homogeneous substance, the power of the magnet 
breaking through the sluggishness of the steel. With regard to 
the assistance of motion, it is seen in wooden arrows or points, 
which penetrate more deeply into wood than if they were tipped 
with iron, from the similarity of the substance, the swiftness of 
the motion breaking through the sluggishness of the wood ; of 
which two last experiments we have spoken above in the aphorism 
on clandestine instances. p 

The confinement of the motion of lesser congregation, which 
arises from the power of the predominant body, is shown in the 
decomposition of blood and urine by cold. For as long as these 
substances are filled with the active spirit, which regulates and 
restrains each of their component parts, as the predominant 
ruler of the whole, the several different parts do not collect 
themselves separately on account of the check ; but as soon as 
that spirit has evaporated, or has been choked by the cold, then 
the decomposed parts unite, according to their natural desire. 
Hence it happens, that all bodies which contain a sharp spirit (as 
salts and the like), last without decomposition, owing to the per- 
manent and durable power of the predominating and imperious 
spirit. 

The confinement of the motion of lesser congregation, which 
arises from external motion, is very evident in that agitation of 
bodies which preserves them from putrefaction. For all putre- 
faction depends on the congregation of the homogeneous parts, 
whence, by degrees, there ensues a corruption of the first form 
(as it is called), and the generation of another. For the decom- 

Eosition of the original form, which is itself the union of the 
omogeneous parts, precedes the putrefaction, which prepares 
the way for the generation of another. This decomposition, if 
not interrupted, is simple ; but if there be various obstacles, 
putrefactions ensue, which are the rudiments of a new generation. 
But if (to come to our present point) a frequent agitation be 
excited by external motion, the motion towards union (which is 
delicate and gentle, and requires to be free from all external 

p See Aphorism *xv. 



54:4: NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK II. 

influence) is disturbed, and ceases ; which we perceive to be the 
case in innumerable instances. Thus, the daily agitation or 
flowing of water prevents putrefaction ; winds prevent the air 
from being pestilent ; corn turned about and shaken in granaries 
continues clean : in short, everything which is externally agitated 
will with difficulty rot internally. 

We must not omit that union of the parts of bodies which is 
the principal cause of induration and desiccation. When the 
spirit or moisture, which has evaporated into spirit, has escaped 
from a porous body (such as wood, bone, parchment, and the 
like), the thicker parts are drawn together, and united with a 
greater effort, and induration or desiccation is the consequence ; 
and this we attribute not so much to the motion of connection 
(in order to prevent a vacuum), as to this motion of friendship 
and union. 

Union from a distance is rare, and yet is to be met with in 
more instances than are generally observed. We perceive it 
when one bubble dissolves another, when medicines attract 
humours from a similarity of substance, when one string moves 
another in unison with it on different instruments, and the like. 
We are of opinion that this motion is very prevalent also in 
animal spirits, but are quite ignorant of the fact. It is, how- 
ever, conspicuous in the magnet, and magnetized iron. Whilst 
speaking of the motions of the magnet, we must plainly dis- 
tinguish them, for there are four distinct powers or effects of the 
magnet which should not be confounded, although the wonder 
and astonishment of mankind has classed them together. 1. The 
attraction of the magnet to the magnet, or of iron to the magnet, 
or of magnetized iron to iron. 2. Its polarity towards the 
north and south, and its variation. 3. Its penetration through 
gold, glass, stone, and all other substances. 4. The com- 
munication of power from the mineral to iron, and from iron to 
iron, without any communication of the substances. Here, 
however, we only speak of the first. There is also a singular 
motion of attraction between quicksilver and gold, so that the 
gold attracts quicksilver even when made use of in ointment ; 
and those who work surrounded by the vapours of quicksilver, 
are wont to hold a piece of gold in their mouths, to collect the 
exhalations, which would otherwise attack their heads and bones, 
and this piece soon grows white. q Let this suffice for the motion 
of lesser congregation. 

Let the ninth be the magnetic motion, which, although of the 
nature of that last mentioned, yet, when operating at great 
distances, and on great masses, deserves a separate inquiry, 
especially if it neither begin in contact, as most motions of con- 

9 Query. 



BOOK II.] MOTION OF AVOIDANCE. 515 

gregation do, nor end by bringing the snbstances into contact, 
as all do, but only raise them, and make them swell without any 
further effect. For if the moon raise the waters, or cause 
moist substances to swell, or if the starry sphere attract the 
planets towards their apogees, or the sun confine the planets 
Mercury and Venus to within a certain distance of his mass ; r 
these motions do not appear capable of being classed under 
either of those of congregation, but to be, as it were, inter- 
mediately and imperfectly congregative, and thus to form a 
distinct species. 

Let the tenth motion be that of avoidance, or that which is 
opposed to the motion of lesser congregation, by which bodies, 
with a kind of antipathy, avoid and disperse, and separate them- 
selves from, or refuse to unite themselves with others of a hostile 
nature. For although this may sometimes appear to be an 
accidental motion, necessarily attendant upon that of the lesser 
congregation, because the homogeneous parts cannot unite, 
unless the heterogeneous be first removed and excluded, yet it 
is still to be classed separately, 8 and considered as a distinct 
species, because, in many cases, the desire of avoidance appears 
to be more marked than that of union. 

It is very conspicuous in the excrements of animals, nor less, 
perhaps, in objects odious to particular senses, especially the 
smell and taste ; for a fetid smell is rejected by the nose, so as 
to produce a sympathetic motion of expulsion at the mouth of 
the stomach ; a bitter and rough taste is rejected by the palate 
or throat, so as to produce a sympathetic concussion and shiver- 
ing of the head. This motion is visible also in other cases. Thus 
it is observed in some kinds of antiperistasis, as in the middle 
region of the air, the cold of which appears to be occasioned by 
the rejection of cold from the regions of the heavenly bodies ; 
and also in the heat and combustion observed in subterranean 
spots, which appear to be owing to the rejection of heat from 
the centre of the earth. For heat and cold, when in small 
quantities, mutually destroy each other, whilst in larger quan- 
tities, like armies equally matched, they remove and eject each 
other in open conflict. It is said, also, that cinnamon and other 
perfumes retain their odour longer when placed near privies and 
foul places, because they will not unite and mix with stinks. It 
is well known that quicksilver, which would otherwise reunite 
into a complete mass, is prevented from so doing by man's spittle, 
pork lard, turpentine, and the like, from the little affinity of its 

r Observe this approximation to Newton's theory. 

s Those differences which are generated by the masses and respective 
distances of bodies are only differences of quantity, and not specific ; 
consequently those three classes are only one. Ed. 

2 ' 2k 



546 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK II. 

parts with those substances, so that when surrounded by them 
it draws itself back, and its avoidance of these intervening ob- 
stacles is greater than its desire of reuniting itself to its homo- 
geneous parts ; which is what they term the mortification of 
quicksilver. Again, the difference in weight of oil and water is 
not the only reason for their refusing to mix, but it is also owing 
to the little affinity of the two ; for spirits of wine, which are 
lighter than oil, mix very well with water. A very remarkable 
instance of the motion in question is seen in nitre, and crude 
bodies of a like nature, which abhor flame, as may be observed 
in gunpowder, quicksilver, and gold. The avoidance of one pole 
of the magnet by iron is not (as Gilbert has well observed), 
strictly speaking, an avoidance, but a conformity, or attraction 
to a more convenient situation. 

Let the eleventh motion be that of assimilation, or self- 
multiplication, or simple generation, by which latter term we 
do not mean the simple generation of integral bodies, such 
as plants or animals, but of homogeneous bodies. By this 
motion homogeneous bodies convert those which are allied 
to them, or at least well disposed and prepared, into their 
own substance and nature. Thus flame multiplies itself over 
vapours and oily substances, and generates fresh flame ; the air 
over water and watery substances multiplies itself and generates 
fresh air ; the vegetable and animal spirit, over the thin particles 
of a watery or oleaginous spirit contained in its food, multiplies 
itself and generates fresh spirit ; the solid parts of plants and 
animals, as the leaf, flower, the flesh, bone, and the like, each of 
them assimilate some part of the juices contained in their food, 
and generate a successive and daily substance. For let none 
rave with Paracelsus, who (blinded by his distillations) would 
have it, that nutrition takes place by mere separation, and that 
the eye, nose, brain, and liver, lie concealed in bread and meat, 
the root, leaf, and flower, in the juice of the earth ; asserting 
that just as the artist brings out a leaf, flower, eye, nose, hand, 
foot, and the like, from a rude mass of stone or wood by the 
separation and rejection of what is superfluous ; so the great 
artist within us brings out our several limbs and parts by sepa- 
ration and rejection. But to leave such trifling, it is most cer- 
tain that all the parts of vegetables and animals, as well the 
homogeneous as organic, first oi all attract those juices contained 
in their food, which are nearly common, or at least not very 
different, and then assimilate and convert them into their own 
nature. Nor does this assimilation, or simple generation, take 
place in animated bodies only, but the inanimate also participate 
in the same property (as we have observed of flame and air), and 
that languid spirit, which is contained in every tangible animated 
substance, is perpetually working upon the coarser parts, and 



book il] motion of excitement. oil 

converting tliem into spirit, which afterwards is exhaled, whence 
ensues a diminution of weight, and a desiccation of which we 
have spoken elsewhere.* Nor should we, in speaking of assimi- 
lation, neglect to mention the accretion which is usually dis- 
tinguished from aliment, and which is observed when mud grows 
into a mass between stones, and is converted into a stony sub- 
stance, and the scaly substance round the teeth is converted into 
one no less hard than the teeth themselves ; for we are of opinion 
that there exists in all bodies a desire of assimilation, as well as 
of uniting with homogeneous masses. Each of these powers, 
however, is confined, although in different manners, and should 
be diligently investigated, because they are connected with the 
revival of old age. Lastly, it is worthy of observation, that in 
the nine preceding motions, bodies appear to aim at the mere 
preservation of their nature, whilst in this they attempt its 
propagation. 

Let the twelfth motion be that of excitement, which appears 
to be a species of the last, and is sometimes mentioned by us 
under that name. It is, like that, a diffusive, communicative, 
transitive, and multiplying motion ; and they agree remarkably 
in their effect, although they differ in their mode of action, and 
in their subject matter. The former proceeds imperiously, and 
with authority ; it orders and compels the assimilated to be con- 
verted and changed into the assimilating body. The latter pro- 
ceeds by art, insinuation, and stealth, inviting and disposing the 
excited towards the nature of the exciting body. The former 
both multiplies and transforms bodies and substances ; thus a 
greater quantity of flame, air, spirit, and flesh is formed ; but in 
the latter, the powers only are multiplied and changed, and heat, 
the magnetic power, and putrefaction, in the above instances, are 
increased. Heat does not diffuse itself when heating other bodies 
by any communication of the original heat, but only by exciting 
the parts of the heated body to that motion which is the form of 
heat, and of which we spoke in the first vintage of the nature of 
heat. Heat, therefore, is excited much less rapidly and readily 
in stone or metal than in air, on account of the inaptitude and 
sluggishness of those bodies in acquiring that motion, so that it 
is probable, that there may be some substances, towards the 
centre of the earth, quite incapable of being heated, on account 
of their density, which may deprive them of the spirit by which 
the motion of excitement is usually commenced. Thus also the 
magnet creates in the iron a new disposition of its parts, and a 
conformable motion, without losing any of its virtue. So the 
leaven of bread, yeast, rennet, and some poisons, excite and 
invite successive and continued motion in dough, beer, cheese, or 

* See the citing instances, Aphorism xl. 

2 n2 



548 NOVUM DRGANUM. [BOOK II. 

the human body ; not so much from the power of the exciting, as 
the predisposition and yielding of the excited body. 

Let the thirteenth motion be that of impression, which is also 
a species of motion of assimilation, and the most subtle of dif- 
fusive motions. We have thought it right, however, to consider 
it as a distinct species, on account of its remarkable difference 
from the two last ; for the simple motion of assimilation trans- 
forms the bodies themselves, so that if you remove the first 
agent, you diminish not the effect of those which succeed ; thus, 
neither the first lighting of flame, nor the first conversion into 
air, are of any importance to the flame or air next generated. 
So, also, the motion of excitement still continues for a consider- 
able time after the removal of the first agent, as in a heated 
body on the removal of the original heat, in the excited iron on 
the removal of the magnet, and in the dough on the removal of 
the leaven. But the motion of impression, although diffusive 
and transitive, appears, nevertheless, to depend on the first 
agent, so that upon the removal of the latter the former imme- 
diately fails and perishes ; for which reason also it takes effect 
in a moment, or at least a very short space of time. We are 
wont to call the two former motions the motions of the genera- 
tion of Jupiter, because when born they continue to exist ; 
and the latter, the motion of the generation of Saturn, because 
it is immediately devoured and absorbed. It may be seen 
in three instances : 1. In the rays of light ; 2. in the percus- 
sions of sounds ; 3. in magnetic attractions as regards commu- 
nication. For, on the removal of light, colours and all its 
other images disappear, as on the cessation of the first percussion 
and the vibration of the body, sound soon fails, and although 
sounds are agitated by the wind, like waves, yet it is to be ob- 
served, that the same sound does not last during the whole time of 
the reverberation. Thus, when a bell is struck, the sound appears 
to be continued for a considerable time, and one might easily be 
led into the mistake of supposing it to float and remain in the 
air during the whole time, which is most erroneous. 11 For the 
reverberation is not one identical sound, but the repetition of 
sounds, which is made manifest by stopping and confining the 

u Aristotle's doctrine, that sound takes place when bodies strike the 
air, which the modern science of acoustics has completely established, 
was rejected by Bacon in a treatise upon the same subject : " The collision 
or thrusting of air," he says, " which they will have to be the cause of 
sound, neither denotes the form nor the latent process of sound, but is 
a term of ignorance and of superficial contemplation." To get out of 
the difficulty, he betook himself to his theory of spirits, a species of 
phenomena which he constantly introduces to give himselt the air of 
explaining things he could not understand, or would not admit upon 
he hypothesis of his opponents. Ed. 



BOOK II.] MOTION OF CONFIGURATION 549 

sonorous body ; thus, if a bell be stopped and held tightly, so as 
to be immovable, the sound fails, and there is no further rever- 
beration, and if a musical string be touched after the first vibra- 
tion, either with the finger (as in the harp), or a quill (as in the 
harpsichord), the sound immediately ceases. If the magnet be 
removed the iron falls. The moon, however, cannot be removed 
from the sea, nor the earth from a heavy falling body, and we 
can, therefore, make no experiment upon them ; but the case is 
the same. 

Let the fourteenth motion be that configuration or position, 
by which bodies appear to desire a peculiar situation, collocation, 
and configuration with others, rather than union or separation. 
This is a very abstruse notion, and has not been well investi- 
gated ; and, in some instances, appears to occur almost without 
any cause, although we be mistaken in supposing this to be 
really the case. For if it be asked, why the heavens revolve 
from east to west, rather than from west to east, or why they 
turn on poles situate near the Bears, rather than round Orion or 
any other part of the heaven, such a question appears to be 
unreasonable, since these phenomena should be received as 
determinate and the objects of our experience. There are, in- 
deed, some ultimate and self-existing phenomena in nature, but 
those which we have just mentioned are not to be referred to 
that class : for we attribute them to a certain harmony and con- 
sent of the universe, which has not yet been properly observed. 
But if the motion of the earth from west to east be allowed, the 
same question may be put, for it must also revolve round certain 
poles, and why should they be placed where they are, rather than 
elsewhere ? The polarity and variation of the needle come under 
our present head. There is also observed in both natural and 
artificial bodies, especially solids rather than fluids, a particular 
collocation and position of parts, resembling hairs or fibres, which 
should be diligently investigated, since, without a discovery of 
them, bodies cannot be conveniently controlled or wrought upon. 
The eddies observable in liquids by which, when compressed, 
they successively raise different parts of their mass before they 
can escape, so as to equalize the pressure, is more correctly 
assigned to the motion of liberty. 

Let the fifteenth motion be that of transmission or of passage, 
by which the powers of bodies are more or less impeded or 
advanced by the medium, according to the nature of the bodies and 
their effective powers, and also according to that of the medium. 
For one medium is adapted to light, another to sound, another 
to heat and cold, another to magnetic action, and so on with 
regard to the other actions. 

Let the sixteenth be that which we term the royal or political 
motion, by which the predominant and governing parts of any 



550 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK II. 

body check, subdue, reduce, and regulate the others, and force 
them to unite, separate, stand still, move, or assume a certain 
position, not from any inclination of their own, but according to 
a certain order, and as best suits the convenience of the 
governing part, so that there is a sort of dominion and civil 
government exercised by the ruling part over its subjects. The 
motion is very conspicuous in the spirits of animals, where, as 
long as it is in force, it tempers all the motions of the other 
parts. It is found in a less degree in other bodies, as we have 
observed in blood and urine, which are not decomposed until 
Jiie spirit, which mixed and retained their parts, has been emitted 
or extinguished. 'Nor is this motion peculiar to spirits only, 
although in most bodies the spirit predominates, owing to its 
rapid motion and penetration ; for the grosser parts predominate 
in denser bodies, which are not filled with a quick and active 
spirit (such as exists in quicksilver or vitriol), so that unless this 
check or yoke be thrown off' by some contrivance, there is no 
hope of any transformation of such bodies. And let not any 
one suppose that we have forgotten our subject, because we 
speak of predominance in this classification ot motions, which is 
made entirely with the view of assisting the investigation of 
wrestling instances, or instances of predominance. For we do 
not now treat of the general predominance of motions or powers, 
but of that of parts in whole bodies, which constitutes the par- 
ticular species here considered. 

Let the seventeenth motion be the spontaneous motion of 
revolution, by which bodies having a tendency to move, and 
placed in a favourable situation, enjoy their peculiar nature, 
pursuing themselves and nothing else, and seeking, as it were, to 
embrace themselves. For bodies seem either to move without 
any limit, or to tend towards a limit, arrived at which they 
either revolve according to their peculiar nature, or rest. Those 
which are favourably situated, and have a tendency to motion, 
move in a circle with an eternal and unlimited motion ; those which 
are favourably situated and abhor motion, rest. Those which are 
not favourably situated move in a straight line (as their shortest 
path), in order to unite with others of a congenial nature. This 
motion of revolution admits of nine differences : 1. with regard 
to the centre about which the bodies move ; 2. the poles round 
which they move ; 3. the circumference or orbit relatively to its 
distance from the centre ; 4. the volocity, or greater or less 
speed with which they revolve ; 5. the direction of the motion 
as from east to west, or the reverse ; 6. the deviation from a 
perfect circle, by spiral lines at a greater or less distance from 
the centre ; 7. the deviation from the circle, by spiral lines at a 
greater or less distance from the poles ; 8. the greater or less 
distance of these spirals from each other ; 9. and lastly, the 



BOOK II.] MOTION OF THEPIDATIOX. 55 1 

variation of the poles if they be moveable ; which, nowever, 
only affects revolution when circular. The motion in question 
is, according to common and long-received opinion, considered to 
be that of the heavenly bodies. There exists, however, with 
regard to this, a considerable dispute between some oi the 
ancients as well as moderns, who have attributed a motion of 
revolution to the earth. A much more reasonable controversy, 
perhaps, exists (if it be not a matter beyond dispute), whether 
the motion in question (on the hypothesis of the earth's being 
fixed) is confined to the heavens, or rather descends and is com- 
municated to the air and water. The rotation of missiles, as in 
darts, musket-balls, and the like, we refer entirely to the motion 
of liberty. 

Let the eighteenth motion be that of trepidation, 1 to which (in 
the sense assigned to it by astronomers) we do not give much 
credit ; t but in our serious and general search after the tendencies 
of natural bodies, this motion occurs, and appears worthy of 
forming a distinct species. It is the motion of an (as it were) 
eternal captivity ; when bodies, for instance, being placed 
not altogether according to their nature, and yet not exactly ill, 
constantly tremble, and are restless, not contented with their 
position, and yet not daring to advance. Such is the motion of 
the heart and pulse of animals, and it must necessarily occur in 
all bodies which are situated in a mean state, between con- 
veniences and inconveniences ; so that being removed from their 
proper position, they strive to escape, are repulsed, and again 
continue to make the attempt. 

Let the nineteenth and last motion be one which can scarcely 
be termed a motion, and yet is one ; and which we may call the 
motion of repose, or of abhorrence of motion. It is by this 
motion that the earth stands by its own weight, whilst its ex- 
tremes move towards the middle, not to an imaginary centre, 
but in order to unite. It is owing to the same tendency, that all 
bodies of considerable density abhor motion, and their only 
tendency is not to move, which nature they preserve, although 
excited and urged in a variety of ways to motion. But if they 
be compelled to move, yet do they always appear anxious to 
recover their former state, and to cease from motion, in which 
respect they certainly appear active, and attempt it with sufficient 
swiftness and rapidity, as if fatigued, and impatient of delay. 
We can only have a partial representation of this tendency, 
because with us every tangible substance is not only not con- 

x The motion of trepidation, as Bacon calls it, was attributed by the 
ancient astronomers to the eight spheres, relative to the precession of the 
equinoxes. Galileo was the first to observe this kind of lunar motion. 
Ed. 



552 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK II. 

densed to the utmost, but even some spirit is added, owing to 
the action and concocting influence of the heavenly bodies. 

We have now, therefore, exhibited the species, or simple 
elements of the motions, tendencies, and active powers, which 
are most universal in nature ; and no small portion of natural 
science has been thus sketched out. We do not, however, deny 
that other instances can perhaps be added, and our divisions 
changed according to some more natural order of things, and 
also reduced to a less number ; in which respect we do not allude 
to any abstract classification, as if one were to say, that bodies 
desire the preservation, exaltation, propagation, or fruition of 
their nature ; or, that motion tends to the preservation and 
benefit either of the universe (as in the case of those of re- 
sistance and connection), or of extensive wholes, as in the case of 
those of the greater congregation, revolution, and abhorrence of 
motion, or of particular forms, as in the case of the others. 
For although such remarks be just, yet, unless they terminate 
in matter and construction, according to true definitions, they 
are speculative, and of little use. In the mean time, our 
classification will suffice, and be of much use in the consideration 
of the predominance of powers, and examining the wrestling 
instances which constitute our present subject. 

For of the motions here laid down, some are quite invincible, 
some more powerful than others, which they confine, check, and 
modify ; others extend to a greater distance, others are more 
immediate and swift, others strengthen, increase, and accelerate 
the rest. 

The motion of resistance is most adamantine and invincible. 
We are yet in doubt whether such be the nature of that of con- 
nection ; for we cannot with certainty determine whether there 
be a vacuum, either extensive or intermixed with matter. Of 
one thing, however, we are satisfied, that the reason assigned by 
Leucippus and Democritus for the introduction of a vacuum 
(namely, that the same bodies could not otherwise comprehend, 
and fill greater and less spaces) is false. For there is clearly a 
folding of matter, by which it wraps and unwraps itself in space 
within certain limits, without the intervention of a vacuum. 
Nor is there two thousand times more of vacuum in air than in 
gold, as there should be on this hypothesis ; a fact demonstrated 
by the very powerful energies of fluids (which would otherwise 
float like fine dust in vacuo), and many other proofs. The other 
motions direct, and are directed by each other, according to 
their strength, quantity, excitement, emission, or the assistance 
or impediments they meet with. 

For instance ; some armed magnets hold and support iron of 
sixty times their own weight ; so far does the motion of lesser 
congregation predominate over that of the greater ; but if the 
weight be increased, it yields. A lever of a certain strength 



BOOK II.] INSTANCES OF PREDOMINANCE 553 

will raise a given weight, and so far the motion of liberty pre- 
dominates over that of the greater congregation, bnt if the 
weight be greater, the former motion yields. A piece of leather 
stretched to a certain point does not break, and so far the 
motion of continuity predominates over that of tension, but if 
the tension be greater, the leather breaks, and the motion of 
continuity yields. A certain quantity of water flows through a 
chink, and so far the motion of greater congregation pre- 
dominates over that of continuity, but if the chink be 
smaller it yields. If a musket be charged with ball and 
powdered sulphur alone, and fire be applied, the ball is not dis- 
charged, in which case the motion of greater congregation over- 
comes that of matter ; but when gunpowder is used, the motion 
of matter in the sulphur predominates, being assisted by that 
motion, and the motion of avoidance in the nitre ; and so of the 
rest. For wrestling instances (which show the predominance of 
powers, and in what manner and proportion they predominate and 
yield) must be searched for with active and industrious diligence. 

The methods and nature of this yielding must also be dili- 
gently examined, as for instance, whether the motions completely 
cease, or exert themselves, but are constrained. For in the 
bodies with which we are acquainted, there is no real but an 
apparent rest, either in the whole or in parts. This apparent 
rest is occasioned either by equilibrium, or the absolute pre- 
dominance of motions. By equilibrium, as in the scales of the 
balance, which rest if the weights be equal. By predominance, as 
in perforated jars, in which the water rests, and is prevented from 
falling by the predominance of the motion of connection. It is, 
however, to be observed (as we have said before), how far the 
yielding motions exert themselves. For if a man be held 
stretched out on the ground against his will, with arms and legs 
bound down, or otherwise confined, and yet strive with all his 
power to get up, the struggle is not the less, although ineffectual. 
The real state of the case (namely, whether the yielding motion 
be, as it were, annihilated by the predominance, or there be 
rather a continued, although an invisible effort) will, perhaps, 
appear in the concurrence of motions, although it escape our 
notice in their conflict. For instance ; let an experiment be 
made with muskets ; whether a musket-ball, at its utmost range 
in a straight line, or (as it is commonly called) point blank, strike 
with less force when projected upwards, where the motion of the 
blow is simple, than when projected downwards, where the 
motion of gravity concurs with the blow. 

The rules of such instances of predominance as occur should 
be collected : such as the following ; the more general the 
desired advantage is, the stronger will be the motion ; the 
motion of connection, for instance, which relates to the inter- 
course of the parts of the universe, is more powerful than that 



55± NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK II. 

of gravity, which relates to the intercourse of dense bodies only. 
Again, the desire of a private good does not in general prevail 
against that of a public one, except where the quantities are 
small. Would that such were the case in civil matters ! 

XLIX. In the twenty -fifth rank of prerogative instances we 
will place suggesting instances ; such as suggest, or point out, 
that which is advantageous to mankind; for bare power and 
knowledge in themselves exalt rather than enrich human nature. 
We must, therefore, select from the general store, such things as 
are most useful to mankind. We shall have a better opportunity 
of discussing these when we treat of the application to practice ; 
besides, in the work of interpretation, we leave room, on every 
subject, for the human or optative chart ; for it is a part of 
science to make judicious inquiries and wishes. 

L. In the twenty-sixth rank of prerogative instances we will 
place the generally useful instances. They are such as relate to 
various points, and frequently occur, sparing by that means con- 
siderable labour and new trials. The proper place for treating 
of instruments and contrivances, will be that in which we speak 
of the application to practice, and the methods of experiment. 
All that has hitherto been ascertained, and made use of, will be 
described in the particular history of each art. At present, we 
will subjoin a few general examples of the instances in question. 

Man acts, then, upon natural bodies (besides merely bringing 
them together or removing them) by seven principal methods : 
1. By the exclusion of all that impedes and disturbs ; 2. by 
compression, extension, agitation, and the like ; 3. by heat and 
cold ; 4. by detention in a suitable place ; 5. by checking or 
directing motion ; 6. by peculiar harmonies ; 7. by a seasonable 
and proper alternation, series, and succession of all these, or, at 
least, of some of them. 

1. With regard to the first, — common air, which is always at 
hand, and forces its admission, as also the rays of the heavenly 
bodies, create much disti. .oance. Whatever, therefore, tends to 
exclude them may well be considered as generally useful. The 
substance and thickness of vessels in which bodies are placed 
when prepared for operations may be referred to this head. So 
also may the accurate methods of closing vessels by consolida- 
tion, or the lutum sapienticp, as the chemists call it. The exclu- 
sion of air by meaus of liquids at the extremity is also very use- 
ful, as when they pour oil on wine, or the juices of herbs, which 
by spreading itself upon the top like a cover, preserves them 
uninjured from the air. Powders, also, are serviceable, for 
although they contain air mixed up in them, yet they ward off 
the power of the mass of circumambient air, which is seen in the 
preservation of grapes and other fruits in sand or flour. Wax, 
honey, pitch, and other resinous bodies, are well used in order 



BOOK II.] HERMETICAL CLOSING 555 

to make the exclusion more perfect, and to remove the air and 
celestial influence. We have sometimes made an experiment by 
placing a vessel or other bodies in quicksilver, the most dense of 
all substances capable of being poured round others. Grottos 
and subterraneous caves are of great use in keeping off the 
effects ot the sun, and the predatory action of air, and in the 
north of Germany are used for granaries. The depositing of 
bodies at the bottom of water may be also mentioned here ; and 
I remember having heard of some bottles of wine being let down 
into a deep well in order to cool them, but left there by chance, 
carelessness, and forgetfulness for several years, and then taken 
out ; by which means the wine not only escaped becoming flat 
or dead, but was much more excellent in flavour, arising (as it 
appears) from a more complete mixture of its parts. But if the 
case require that bodies should be sunk to the bottom of water, 
as in rivers or the sea, and yet should not touch the water, nor 
be inclosed in sealed vessels, but surrounded only by air, it 
would be right to use that vessel which has been sometimes 
employed under water above ships that have sunk, in order to 
enable the divers to remain below and breathe occasionally by 
turns. It was of the following nature : — A hollow tub of metal 
was formed, and sunk so as to have its bottom parallel with the 
surface of the water; it thus carried down with it to the bottom 
of the sea all the air contained in the tub. It stood upon three 
feet (like a tripod), being of rather less height than a man, so 
that, when the diver was in want of breath, he could put his 
head into the hollow of the tub, breathe, and then continue his 
work. We hear that some sort of boat or vessel has now been 
invented, capable of carrying men some distance under water. 
Any bodies, however, can easily be suspended under some such 
vessel as we have mentioned, which has occasioned our remarks 
upon the experiment. 

Another advantage of the careful and hermetical closing of 
bodies is this, — not only the admission of external air is pre- 
vented (of which we have treated), but the spirit of bodies also 
is prevented from making its escape, which is an internal opera- 
tion. For any one operating on natural bodies must be certain 
as to their quantity, and that nothing has evaporated or escaped, 
since profound alterations take place in bodies, when art pre- 
vents the loss or escape of any portion, whilst nature prevents 
their annihilation. With regard to this circumstance, a false 
idea has prevailed (which if true would make us despair of pre- 
serving quantity without diminution), namely, that the spirit of 
bodies, and air when rarefied by a great degree of heat, cannot 
be so kept in by being inclosed in any vessel as not to escape by 
the small pores. Men are led into this idea by the common 
experiments of a cup inverted over water, with a candle or 



556 NOVUM ORGAN UM. [BOOK II. 

piece of lighted paper in it, by which the water is drawn up, and 
of those cups which, when heated, draw up the flesh. For they 
think that in each experiment the rarefied air escapes, and that 
its quantity is therefore diminished, by which means the water 
or flesh rises by the motion of connection. This is, however, 
most incorrect. For the air is not diminished in quantity, but 
contracted in dimensions/ nor does this motion of the rising of 
the water begin till the name is extinguished, or the air cooled, 
so that physicians place cold sponges, moistened with water, on 
the cups, in order to increase their attraction. There is, there- 
fore, no reason why men should fear much from the ready escape 
of air : for although it be true that the most solid bodies have 
their pores, yet neither air, nor spirit, readily suffers itself to be 
rarefied to such an extreme degree; just as water will not 
escape by a small chink. 

2. "With regard to the second of the seven above-mentioned 
methods, we must especially observe, that compression and 
similar violence have a most powerful effect either in producing 
locomotion, and other motions of the same nature, as may be 
observed in engines and projectiles, or in destroying the organic 
body, and those qualities, which consist entirely in motion (for all 
life, and every description of flame and ignition are destroyed 
by compression, which also injures and deranges every machine) ; 
or in destroying those qualities which consist in position and a 
coarse difference of parts, as in colours ; for the colour of a 
flower when whole, differs from that it presents when bruised, 
and the same may be observed of whole and powdered amber ; 
or in tastes, for the taste of a pear before it is ripe, and of the 
same pear when bruised and softened, is different, since ifc 
becomes perceptibly more sweet. But such violence is of little 
avail in the more noble transformations and changes of homo- 
geneous bodies, for they do not, by such means, acquire any 
constantly and permanently new state, but one that is transitory, 
and always struggling to return to its former habit and freedom. 
It would not, however, be useless to make some more diligent 
experiments with regard to this ; whether, for instance, the 
condensation of a perfectly homogeneous body (such as air, 
water, oil, and the like) or their rarefaction, when effected by 
violence, can become permanent, fixed, and, as it were, so 
changed, as to become a nature. This might at first be tried by 
simple perseverance, and then by means of helps and harmonies. 
It might readily have been attempted (if we had but thought of 

y Part of the air is expanded and escapes, and part is consumed by 
the flame. When condensed, therefore, by the cold application, it can- 
not offer sufficient resistance to the external atmosphere to prevent the 
liquid or flesh from being forced into the glass. 



BOOK II.] CONDENSATION. 557 

it), when we condensed water (as was mentioned above), by- 
hammering and compression, until it burst out. For we ought 
to have left the flattened globe untouched for some days, and 
then to have drawn off the water, in order to try whether it 
would have immediately occupied the same dimensions as it did 
before the condensation. If it had not done so, either imme- 
diately, or soon afterwards, the condensation would have 
appeared to have been rendered constant'; if not, it would have 
appeared that a restitution took place, and that the condensation 
had been transitory. Something of the same kind might have 
been tried with the glass eggs ; the egg should have been sealed 
up suddenly and firmly, after a complete exhaustion of the air, 
and should have been allowed to remain so for some days, and 
it might then have been tried whether, on opening the aperture, 
the air would be drawn in with a hissing noise, or whether as 
much water would be drawn into it when immersed, as would 
have been drawn into it at first, if it had not continued sealed. 
For it is probable (or, at least, worth making the experiment) 
that this might have happened, or mi^ht happen, because per- 
severance has a similar effect upon bodies which are a little less 
homogeneous. A stick bent together for some time does not 
rebound, which is not owing to any loss of quantity in the wood 
during the time, for the same would occur (after a larger time) 
in a plate of steel, which does not evaporate. If the experiment 
of simple perseverance should fail, the matter should not be 
given up, but other means should be employed. For it would 
be no small advantage, if bodies could be endued with fixed and 
constant natures by violence. Air could then be converted into 
water by condensation, with other similar effects ; for man is 
more the master of violent motions than of any other means. 

3. The third of our seven methods is referred to that great 
practical engine of nature, as well as of art, cold and heat. 
Here, man's power limps, as it were, with one leg. For we 
possess the heat of fire, which is infinitely more powerful and 
intense than that of the sun (as it reaches us), and that of 
animals. But we want cold, 2 except such as we can obtain in 
winter, in caverns, or by surrounding objects with snow and ice, 
which, perhaps, may be compared in degree with the noontide 
heat of the sun in tropical countries, increased by the reflection 
of mountains and walls. For this degree of heat and cold can 
be borne for a short period only by animals, yet it is nothing 
compared with the heat of a burning furnace, or the correspond- 
ing degree of cold. a Everything with us has a tendency to 

z Heat can now be abstracted by a very simple process, till the 
degree of cold be of almost any required intensity. 

a It is impossible to compare a degree of heat with a degree of cold, 



558 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK II. 

become rarefied, dry, and wasted, and nothing to become con- 
densed or soft, except by mixtures, and, as it were, spurious 
methods. Instances of cold, therefore, should be searched for 
most diligently, such as may be found by exposing bodies upon 
buildings in a hard frost, in subterraneous caverns, by surround- 
ing bodies with snow and ice in deep places excavated for that 
purpose, by letting bodies down into wells, by burying bodies in 
quicksilver and metals, by immersing them in streams which 
petrify wood, by burying them in the earth (which the Chinese 
are reported to do with their china, masses of which, made for 
that purpose, are said to remain in the ground for forty or fifty 
years, and to be transmitted to their heirs as a sort of artificial 
mine), and the like. The condensations which take place in 
nature, by means of cold, should also be investigated, that by 
learning their causes, they may be introduced into the arts ; 
such as are observed in the exudation of marble and stones, in 
the dew upon the panes of glass in a room towards morning 
after a frosty night, in the formation and the gathering of 
vapours under the earth into water, whence spring fountains, 
and the like. 

Besides the substances which are cold to the touch, there are 
others which have also the effect of cold, and condense ; they 
appear, however, to act only upon the bodies of animals, and 
scarcely any further. Of these we have many instances, in 
medicines and plasters. Some condense the flesh and tangible 
parts, such as astringent and inspissating medicines, others the 
spirits, such as soporifics. There are two modes of condensing 
the spirits, by soporifics or provocatives to sleep ; the one by 
calming the motion, the other by expelling the spirit. The 
violet, dried roses, lettuces, and other benign or mild remedies, 
by their friendly and gently cooling vapours, invite the spirits to 
unite, and restrain their violent and perturbed motion. Rose- 
water, for instance, applied to the nostrils in fainting fits, causes 
the resolved and relaxed spirits to recover themselves, and, as it 
were, cherishes them. But opiates, and the like, banish the 
spirits by their malignant and hostile quality. If they be ap- 
plied, therefore, externally, the spirits immediately quit the part 
and no longer readily flow into it ; but if they be taken inter- 
nally, their vapour, mounting to the head, expels, in all direc- 
tions, the spirits contained in the ventricles of the brain, and 

without the assumption of some arbitrary test, to which the degrees are 
to be referred. In the next sentence Bacon appears to have taken the 
power of animal life to support heat or cold as the test, and then the 
comparison can only be between the degree oi heat or of cold that will 
produce death. 

The zero must be arbitrary which divides equally a certain degree of 
heat from a certain degree of cold. 



BOOK II.] CONDENSATION. 559 

since these spirits retreat, but cannot escape, they consequently 
meet and are condensed, and are sometimes completely extin- 
guished and suffocated ; although the same opiates, when taken 
in moderation, by a secondary accident (the condensation which 
succeeds their union), strengthen the spirits, render them more 
robust, and check their useless and inflammatory motion, by 
which means they contribute not a little to the cure of diseases, 
and the prolongation of life. 

The preparations of bodies, also, for the reception of cold 
should not be omitted, such as that water a little warmed is more 
easily frozen than that which is quite cold, and the like. 

Moreover, since nature supplies cold so sparingly, we must 
act like the apothecaries, who, when they cannot obtain any 
simple ingredient, take a succedaneum, or quid pro quo, as they 
term it, such as aloes for xylobalsamum, cassia for cinnamon. 
In the same manner we should look diligently about us, to ascer- 
tain whether there may be any substitutes for cold, that is to 
say, in what other manner condensation can be effected, which is 
the peculiar operation of cold. Such condensations appear 
hitherto to be of four kinds only. 1. By simple compression, 
which is of little avail towards permanent condensation, on 
account of the elasticity of substances, but may still however be 
of some assistance. 2. By the contraction of the coarser, after 
the escape or departure of the finer parts of a given body ; as is 
exemplified in induration by fire, and the repeated heating and 
extinguishing of metals, and the like. 3. By the cohesion of the 
most solid homogeneous parts of a given body, which were pre- 
viously separated, and mixed with others less solid, as in the 
return of sublimated mercury to its simple state, in which it 
occupies much less space than it did in powder, and the same may 
be observed of the cleansing of all metals from their dross. 
4. By harmony or the application of substances which condense 
by some latent power. These harmonies are as yet but rarely 
observed, at which we cannot be surprised, since there is little to 
hope for from their investigation, unless the discovery of forms 
and confirmation be attained. With regard to animal bodies, it 
is not to be questioned that there are many internal and external 
medicines which condense by harmony, as we have before ob- 
served, but this action is rare in inanimate bodies. Written 
accounts, as well as report, have certainly spoken of a tree in 
one of the Tercera or Canary Islands (for I do not exactly recol- 
lect which) that drips perpetually, so as to supply the inhabit- 
ants, in some degree, with water ; and Paracelsus says that the 
herb called ros soils is filled with dew at noon, whilst the sun 
jjives out its greatest heat, and all other herbs around it are dry. 
We treat both these accounts as fables ; they would, however, if 
true, be of the most important service, and most worthy of 



560 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK II. 

examination. As to the honey-clew, resembling manna, which is 
found in May on the leaves of the oak, we are of opinion that it 
is not condensed by any harmony or peculiarity of the oak leaf, 
but that whilst it falls equally upon other leaves it is retained 
and continues on those of the oak, because their texture is closer, 
and not so porous as that of most of the other ieaves. b 

With regard to heat, man possesses abundant means and 
power ; but his observation and inquiry are defective in some 
respects, and those of the greatest importance, notwithstanding 
the boasting of quacks. For the effects of intense heat are 
examined and observed, whilst those of a more gentle degree of 
heat, being of the most frequent occurrence in the paths of 
nature, are, on that very account, least known. We see, there- 
fore, the furnaces, which are most esteemed, employed in in- 
creasing the spirits of bodies to a great extent, as in the strong 
acids, and some chymical oils ; whilst the tangible parts are 
hardened, and, when the volatile part has escaped, become some- 
times fixed ; the homogeneous parts are separated, and the hete- 
rogeneous incorporated and agglomerated in a coarse lump ; and 
(what is chiefly worthy of remark) the junction of compound 
bodies, and the more delicate conformations are destroyed and 
confounded. But the operation of a less violent heat should be 
tried and investigated, by which more delicate mixtures, and 
regular conformations may be produced and elicited, according 
to the example of nature, and in imitation of the effect of the 
sun, which we have alluded to in the aphorism on the instances 
of alliance. For the works of nature are carried on in much 
smaller portions, and in more delicate and varied positions 
than those of fire, as we now employ it. But man will then 
appear to have really augmented his power, when the works of 
nature can be imitated in species, perfected in power, and varied 
in quantity ; to which should be added the acceleration in point 
of time. E-ust, for instance, is the result of a long process, but 
crocus wiartis is obtained immediately ; and the same may be 
observed of natural verdigris and ceruse. Crystal is formed 
slowly, whilst glass is blown immediately : stones increase 
slowly, whilst bricks are baked immediately, &c. In the mean 
time (with regard to our present subject) every different species 
of heat should, with its peculiar effects, be diligently collected 
and inquired into ; that of the heavenly bodies, whether their 
rays be direct, reflected, or refracted, or condensed by a burning- 
glass ; that of lightning, flame, and ignited charcoal ; that of fire 
of different materials, either open or confined, straitened or 
overflowing, qualified by the different forms of the furnaces, 
excited by the bellows, or quiescent, removed to a greater or less 

b It may often be observed on the leaves of the lime and other trees. 



BOOK II. | CONTINUANCE. 561 

distance, or passing through different media ; moist heats, such 
as the balneum Maria, and the dunghill ; the external and internal 
heat of animals ; dry heats, such as the heat of ashes, lime, 
warm sand ; in short, the nature of every kind of heat, and its 
degrees. 

We should, however, particularly attend to the investigation 
and discovery of the effects and operations of heat, when made 
to approach and retire by degrees, regularly, periodically, and 
by proper intervals of space and time. For this systematical 
inequality is in truth the daughter of heaven and mother of 
generation, nor can any great result be expected from a vehe- 
ment, precipitate, or desultory heat. For this is not only most 
evident in vegetables, but in the wombs of animals also there 
arises a great inequality of heat, from the motion, sleep, food, 
and passions of the female. The same inequality prevails in 
those subterraneous beds where metals and fossils are perpetually 
forming, which renders yet more remarkable the ignorance of 
some of the reformed alchymists, who imag'ied they could 
attain their object by the equable heat of lamps, or the like, 
burning uniformly. Let this suffice concerning the operation 
and effects of heat ; nor is it time for us to investigate them 
thoroughly before the forms and conformations of bodies have 
been further examined and brought to light. When we have 
determined upon our models, we may seek, apply, and arrange 
our instruments. 

4. The fourth mode of action is by continuance, the very 
steward and almoner, as it were, of nature. We apply the term 
continuance to the abandonment of a body to itself for an ob- 
servable time, guarded and protected in the meanwhile from all 
external force. For the internal motion then commences to 
betray and exert itself when the external and adventitious is 
removed. The effects of time, however, are far more delicate 
than those of fire. Wine, for instance, cannot be clarified by 
fire as it is by continuance. Nor are the ashes produced by 
combustion so fine as the particles dissolved or wasted by the 
lapse of ages. The incorporations and mixtures, which are hurried 
by fire, are very inferior to those obtained by continuance ; and 
the various conformations assumed by bodies left to themselves, 
such as mouldiness, &c, are put a stop to by fire or a strong 
heat. It is not, in the mean time, unimportant to remark that 
there is a certain degree of violence in the motion of bodies 
entirely confined ; for the confinement impedes the proper motion 
of the body. Continuance in an open vessel, therefore, is useful 
for separations, and in one hermetically sealed for mixtures, that 
in a vessel partly closed, but admitting the air, for putrefaction. 
But instances of the operation and effect of continuance must be 
collected diligently from every quarter. 
2 2o 



562 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK II. 

5. TKe direction of motion (which is the fifth method of 
action) is of no small use. We adopt this term, when speaking 
of a body which, meeting with another, either arrests, repels, 
allows, or directs its original motion. This is the case principally 
in the figure and position of vessels. An upright cone, for 
instance, promotes the condensation of vapour in alembics, but 
when reversed, as in inverted vessels, it assists the refining of 
sugar. Sometimes a curved form, or one alternately contracted 
and dilated, is required. Strainers may be ranged under this 
head, where the opposed body opens a way for one portion of 
another substance and impedes the rest. Nor is this process or 
any other direction of motion carried on externally only, but 
sometimes by one body within another. Thus, pebbles are thrown 
into water to collect the muddy particles, and syrups are refined 
by the white of an egg, w< hich glues the grosser particles together 
so as to facilitate their removal. Telesius, indeed, rashly and 
ignorantly enough attributes the formation of animals to this 
cause, by means of the channels and folds of the womb. He 
ought to have observed a similar formation of the yt>ung in eggs 
which have no wrinkles or inequalities. One may observe a real 
result of this direction of motion in casting and modelling. 

6. The effects produced by harmony and aversion (which is 
the sixth method) are frequently buried in obscurity ; for these 
occult and specific properties (as they are termed), the sympathies 
and antipathies, are for the most part but a corruption of philo- 
sophy. Nor can we form any great expectation of the discovery 
of the harmony which exists between natural objects, before that 
of their forms and simple conformations, for it is nothing more 
than the symmetry between these forms and conformations. 

The greater and more universal species of harmony are not, 
however, so wholly obscure, and with them, therefore, we must 
commence. The first and principal distinction between them is 
this ; that some bodies differ considerably in the abundance and 
rarity of their substance, but correspond in their conformation ; 
others, on the contrary, correspond in the former and differ in 
the latter. Thus the chymists have well observed, that in their 
trial of first principles sulphur and mercury, as it were, pervade 
the universe ; their reasoning about salt, however, is absurd, and 
merely introduced to comprise earthy dry fixed bodies. In the 
other two, indeed, one of the most universal species of natural 
harmony manifests itself. Thus there is a correspondence be- 
tween sulphur, oil, greasy exhalations, flame, and, perhaps, the 
substance of the stars. On the other hand, there is a like cor- 
respondence between mercury, water, aqueous vapour, air, and 
perhaps, pure inter- sideral aether. Yet do these two quaternions, 
or great natural tribes (each within its own limits), differ im- 
mensely in quantity and density of substance, whilst they gene- 



BOOK II.] HARMONY OF BODIES. 563 

rally agree in conformation, as is manifest in many instances. 
On the other hand, the metals agree in snch quantity and 
density (especially when compared with vegetables, &c), but 
differ in many respects in conformation. Animals and vegetables, 
in like manner, vary in their almost infinite modes of confor- 
mation, ftut range within very limited degrees of quantity and 
density of substance. 

The next most general correspondence is that between indi- 
vidual bodies and those which supply them by way of menstruum 
or support. Inquiry, therefore, must be made as to the climate, 
soil, and depth at which each metal is generated, and the same 
of gems, whether produced in rocks or mines, also as to the soil 
in which particular trees, shrubs, and herbs, mostly grow and, 
as it were, delight ; and as to the best species of manure, whether 
dung, chalk, sea sand, or ashes, &c, and their different propriety 
and advantage according to the variety of soils. So also the 
grafting and setting of trees and plants (as regards the readiness 
of grafting one particular species on another) depends very much 
upon harmony, and it would be amusing to try an experiment 
I have lately heard of, in grafting forest trees (garden trees alone 
having hitherto been adopted), by which means the leaves and 
fruit are enlarged, and the trees produce more shade. The 
specific food of animals again should be observed, as well as that 
which cannot be used. Thus the carnivorous cannot be fed on 
herbs, for which reason the order of feuilletans, the experiment 
having been made, has nearly vanished ; human nature being 
incapable of supporting their regimen, although the human will 
has more power over the bodily frame than that of other animals. 
The different kinds of putrefaction from which animals are 
generated should be noted. 

The harmony of principal bodies with those subordinate to 
them (such indeed may be deemed those we have alluded to 
above) are sufficiently manifest, to which may be added those 
that exist between different bodies and their objects, and, since 
these latter are more apparent, they may throw great light when 
well observed and diligently examined upon those which are 
more latent. 

The more internal harmony and aversion, or friendship and 
enmity (for superstition and folly have rendered the terms of 
sympathy and antipathy almost disgusting), have been either 
falsely assigned, or mixed with fable, or most rarely discovered 
from neglect. For if one were to allege that there is an enmity 
between the vine and the cabbage, because they will not come 
up well when sown together, there is a sufficient reason for it 
in the succulent and absorbent nature of each plant, so that 
the one defrauds the other. Ajjain, if one were to say that 
there is a harmony and friendship between the corn and 

2o2 



564 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK II. 

the corn-flower, or the wild poppy, because the latter seldom 
grow anywhere but in cultivated soils, he ought rather to say, 
there is an enmity between them, for the poppy and the corn- 
flower are produced and created by those juices which the corn 
has left and rejected, so that the sowing of the corn prepares the 
ground for their production. And there are a vast number of 
similar false assertions. As for fables, they must be totally ex- 
terminated. There remains, then, but a scanty supply of such 
species of harmony as has borne the test of experiment, such as 
that between the magnet and iron, gold and quicksilver, and the 
like. In chemical experiments on metals, however, there are 
some others worthy of notice, but the greatest abundance 
(where the whole are so few in numbers) is discovered in certain 
medicines, which, from their occult and specific qualities (as they 
are termed), affect particular limbs, humours, diseases, or con- 
stitutions. Nor should we omit the harmony between the 
motion and phenomena of the moon, and their effects on lower 
bodies, which may be brought together by an accurate and 
honest selection from the experiments of agriculture, navigation, 
and medicine, or of other sciences. By as much as these 
general instances, however, of more latent harmony, are rare, 
with so much the more diligence are they to be inquired after, 
through tradition, and faithful and honest reports, but without 
rashness and credulity, with an anxious and, as it were, hesita- 
ting degree of reliance. There remains one species of harmony 
which, though simple in its mode of action, is yet most valuable 
in its use, and must by no means be omitted, but rather dili- 
gently investigated. It is the ready or difficult coition or union 
of bodies in composition, or simple juxta-position. For some 
bodies readily and willingly mix, and are incorporated, others 
tardily and perversely; thus powders mix best with water, 
chalk and ashes with oils, and the like. Nor are these instances 
of readiness and aversion to mixture to be alone collected, but 
others, also, of the collocation, distribution, and digestion of the 
parts when mingled, and the predominance after the mixture is 
complete 

7. Lastly, there remains the seventh, and last of the seven, 
modes of action ; namely, that by the alternation and interchange 
of the other six ; but of this, it will not be the right time to 
offer any examples, until some deeper investigation shall have 
taken place of each of the others. The series, or chain of this 
alternation, in its mode of application to separate effects, is no less 
powerful in its operation, than difficult to be traced. But men 
are possessed with the most extreme impatience, both of such 
inquiries, and their practical application, although it be the clue 
of the labyrinth in all greater works. Thus far of the generally 
useful instances. 



BOOK II.] MAGICAL INSTANCES. 565 

LI. The twenty-seventh and last place we will assign to the 
magical instances, a term which we apply to those where the 
matter or efficient agent is scanty or small, in comparison with 
the grandeur of the work or effect produced ; so that even when 
common they appear miraculous, some at first sight, others even 
upon more attentive observation. Nature, however, of herself, 
supplies these but sparingly. What she will do when her whole 
store is thrown open, and after the discovery of forms, processes, 
and conformation, will appear hereafter. As far as we can yet 
conjecture, these magic effects are produced in three ways, 
either by self-multiplication, as in lire, and the poisons termed 
specific, and the motions transferred and multiplied from wheel 
to wheel ; or by the excitement, or, as it were, invitation of 
another substance, as in the magnet, which excites innumerable 
needles without losing or diminishing its power ; and again in 
leaven, and the like ; or by the excess of rapidity of one species 
of motion over another, as has been observed in the case of gun- 
powder, cannon, and mines. The two former require an investi- 
gation of harmonies, the latter of a measure of motion. Whether 
there be any mode of changing bodies per minima (as it is 
termed), and transferring the delicate conformations of matter, 
which is of importance in all transformations of bodies, so as to 
enable art to effect, in a short time, that which nature works out 
by divers expedients, is a point of which we have as yet no in- 
dication. But, as we aspire to the extremest and highest 
results in that which is solid and true, so do we ever detest, and, 
as far as in us lies, expel all that is empty and vain. 

LIL Let this suffice as to the respective dignity of pre- 
rogatives of instances. But it must be noted, that in this our 
organ, we treat of logic, and not of philosophy. Seeing, how- 
ever, that our logic instructs and informs the understanding, in 
order that it may not, with the small hooks, as it were, of the 
mind, catch at, and grasp mere abstractions, but rather actually 
penetrate nature, and discover the properties and effects of 
bodies, and the determinate laws of their substance (so that this 
science of ours springs from the nature of things, as well as 
from that of the mind) ; it is not to be wondered at, if it have 
been continually interspersed and illustrated with natural obser 
vations and experiments, as instances of our method. The pre 
rogative instances are, as appears from what has preceded 
twenty-seven in number, and are termed, solitary instances 
migrating instances, conspicuous instances, clandestine instances 
constitutive instances, similar instances, singular instances, de 
viating instances, bordering instances, instances of power, accom 
panying and hostile instances, subjunctive instances, instances of 
alliance, instances of the cross, instances of divorce, instances 
of the gate, citing instances, instances of the road, supple- 



566 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK II. 

mentary instances, lancing instances, instances of the rod, in- 
stances of the course, doses of nature, wrestling instances, 
suggesting instances, generally useful instances, and magical in- 
stances. The advantage, by which these instances excel the 
more ordinary, regards specifically either theory or practice, or 
both. With regard to theory, they assist either the senses or 
the understanding ; the senses, as in the five instances of the 
lamp ; the understanding, either by expediting the exclusive 
mode of arriving at the form, as in solitary instances, or by con- 
fining, and more immediately indicating the affirmative, as in the 
migrating, conspicuous, accompanying, and subjunctive in- 
stances ; or by elevating the understanding, and leading it to 
general and common natures, and that either immediately, as 
in the clandestine and singular instances, and those of alliance ; 
or very nearly so, as in the constitutive ; or still less so, as in 
the similar instances ; or by correcting the understanding of its 
habits, as in the deviating instances ; or by leading to the grand 
form or fabric of the universe, as in the bordering instances ; or 
by guarding it from false forms and causes, as in those of the 
cross and of divorce. With regard to practice, they either point 
it out, or measure, or elevate it. They point it out, either by 
showing where we must commence in order not to repeat the 
labours of others, as in the instances of power ; or by inducing 
us to aspire to that which may be possible, as in the suggesting 
instances ; the four mathematical instances measure it. The 
generally useful and the magical elevate it. 

Again, out of these twenty-seven instances, some must be 
collected immediately, without waiting for a particular investi- 
gation of properties. Such are the similar, singular, deviating, 
and bordering instances, those of power, and of the gate, and 
suggesting, generally useful, and magical instances ; for these 
either assist and cure the understanding and senses, or furnish 
our general practice. The remainder are to be collected when 
we finish our synoptical tables for the work of the interpreter, 
upon any particular nature ; for these instances, honoured and 
gifted with such prerogatives, are like the soul amid the vulgar 
crowd of instances, and (as we from the first observed) a few of 
them are worth a multitude of the others. When, therefore, we 
are forming our tables they must be searched out with the 
greatest zeal, and placed in the table. And, since mention must 
be made of them in what follows, a treatise upon their nature . 
has necessarily been prefixed. We must next, however, proceed 
to the supports and corrections of induction, and thence to con- 
cretes, the latent process, and latent conformations, and the other 
matters, which we have enumerated in their order in the twenty- 
first aphorism, in order that, like good and faithful guardians, 
we may yield up their fortune to mankind, upon the emancipa- 



BOOK II.] MAN AND NATURE. 567 

tion and majority of their understanding ; from which, must 
necessarily follow an improvement of their estate, and an increase 
of their power over nature. For man, by the fall, lost at once 
his state of innocence, and his empire over creation, both of 
which can be partially recovered even in this life, the first by 
religion and faith, the second by the arts and sciences. For 
creation did not become entirely and utterly rebellious by the 
curse, but in consequence of the Divine decree, " in the sweat of 
thy brow shalt thou eat bread," she is compelled by our labours 
(not assuredly by our disputes or magical ceremonies), at length, 
to afford mankind in some degree his bread, that is to say, to 
supply man's daily wants. 



THE HtfD. 



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